FAIRHOPE 

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EDGAR DEWITT JONE 




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THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

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FAIRHOPE 

THE ANNALS OF A 
COUNTRY CHURCH 



BY 

EDGAR DEWITT JONES 



FRONTISPIECE BY 

HERBERT DELAND WILLIAMS 



Nnti fork 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1917 

All riihts rtstrutd 






^<'¥'' 



COPYEIGHT, 1917 

By the macmillan company 



Set up and electrotyped. Published, May, 1917. 



JUN-I ibi7 



©CI.A467220 



TO 
FRANCES 

OF 
FAIRHOPE 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Yellow-Breasted Chat . 3 

Fairhope Meeting-House 13 

The Days of Controversy and Debate ... 23 

The Protracted Meetings 41 

The Singing at Fairhope 59 

Our Student Preachers 71 

A Hound of the Lord 89 

A Modern Enoch 103 

Major Menifee's Boy . . . . . . . .121 

As Some Tall Cliff 137 

When Politics and Religion Mixed . . . .155 

A Minister's Wooing . 169 

The Old Order Changeth . . . . . .189 

A Prophecy in God's Acre 205 



A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 



A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 

It has all come about — the writing of these an- 
nals, I mean — through the instrumentality of a 
man and a bird. The man is my minister, and the 
bird — but let that come later. 

As for ministers, all my life I have known them 
intimately. Ours has long been known as a preach- 
er's home, and one of our numerous ministerial 
guests christened it " the preacher's paradise.'* 
Though he phrased it superlatively, I question if 
any home was ever more hospitably disposed 
toward ministers than our own. Like the good 
woman of Shunam, who built a special guest cham- 
ber for the prophet, so according to my earliest 
recollections our roof has sheltered a preacher's 
room. The very first guest that I can recall was as 
Godly a minister as ever proclaimed the way of 
life eternal, and I cherish the hope that at the 
end of my earthly journey my filming eyes may 
rest on the calm countenance of a stout-hearted 
evangel of God who will commend my parting soul 
to the heavenly Father. 

Of all the ministers I have known not one re- 
sembled Mr. Edgecomb ; more formally. The Rev- 
erend Roger Edgecomb, who is my pastor now. 
Mr. Edgecomb does not look like a domine, nor 
does he dress like one. He is slightly above me- 
dium height, of a well-knit, athletic build. His face 
is bronzed from much outdoor life. His hair — 



4 FAIRHOPE 

what there is of it — is of a reddish tinge, and his 
eyes are of a fine twinkling blue-grey. Mr. Edge- 
comb's every day suits are not of ministerial cut 
or colour. He favours a sack coat of norfolk 
style, invariably of greyish cast, and he actually 
wears khaki when he goes on his long tramps to 
the woods. 

Mr. Edgecomb knows birds ! That I found out 
the morning after his first night as my guest. Now, 
be it known that I stablish a point of contact with 
our ministerial guests usually through some ques- 
tion of theology, a comment on our religious press, 
or a query as to some puzzling passage of Scripture. 
In Mr. Edgecomb's case, however, ornithology — 
not theology? — opened the way to a more inti- 
mate acquaintance. He arrived on one Friday eve- 
ning late, and I showed him to his room after only 
the briefest and most conventional conversation. 
The next morning at breakfast he stopped in the 
midst of lifting a crisp slice of bacon to his mouth, 
and exclaimed, " Ah, an ovenbird ! Did you hear 
it say * Teacher, Teacher, Teacher ' ? '* 

I did hear it and I so informed my guest, and 
the while I was conscious of a rising tide of ac- 
tual excitement. Other ministers had helped me in 
the explanation of difficult points of theology and 
obscure Bible texts. Here was a minister who 
might throw light on the mystery in the ravine just 
below the house and across Garrison Creek. 

"Are you well up in bird lore? " I asked, my 
face mirroring my great new interest in my guest 



A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 5 

Mr. Edgecomb inserted a generous lump of 
butter between the crusts of one of Aunt Caro- 
line's delicious biscuits before answering. Then 
smiling at me from across the table he replied, 
** Better, I fear, than I am in some fine points of 
theology. Are you a bird man, too? " 

'' Scarcely," I confessed. " Much as I love the 
birds, I have only a limited knowledge of the spe- 
cies. The commoner kinds I can identify of course ; 
but there are birds that visit northern Kentucky 
every spring whose songs are familiar to me 
though the singers are not. And, Mr. Edgecomb, 
there is one bird in particular which I have heard 
every spring for practically all my life, and yet I 
am not absolutely certain that I ever laid eyes on 
him. I have a great curiosity to see him and to 
learn his name. His haunts are not five minutes' 
walk from this house. Will you let me take you 
there after breakfast? " 

" Let you? " Edgecomb laughed with abandon. 
*' Why you have excited me 1 I am keen as a 
hound that has just found a fresh trail. I have 
had breakfast aplenty! I am ready to go now." 

So we set out together. Passing back of the 
house, we cut across a woodland pasture where a 
cardinal grosbeak in a thorn tree attracted Edge- 
comb and moved him to say, " There is only one 
thing more fascinating than a redbird in a green 
tree and that is two redbirds." 

We scrambled down the sloping sides of a hill, 
crossed Garrison Creek at a point where I had con- 



6 FAIRHOPE 

structed a primitive sort of bridge — a sort that 
went out with every freshet. 

Through a little ravine heavily fringed with 
undergrowth and boasting here and there a fairly 
good-sized tree, we made our way. Suddenly 
there came from the denser part of the copse 
a saucy chuckle followed by a shrill whistle. We 
stopped short. 

*' That's the bird! " I exclaimed. 

Mr. Edgecomb put his hand on my shoulder. 
" Man, it's a yellow-breasted chat. I don't won- 
der that you were puzzled." 

'' The chat is a shy bird," he continued. 
*' Common as he is, I dare say not one in a hun- 
dred thousand knows him by name. He is the 
enigma of the bird world. No one knows the 
chat intimately. Before I show him to you I 
can tell you all that the ornithologists know about 
the chat in less than five minutes. He belongs to 
the warbler family, and he's rather a handsome 
fellow. His upper parts are olive green, his throat 
and chest are bright yellow. His sides are olive 
in colour and he has a white ring around his eyes. 
Male and female are marked much alike. Unlike 
the robin or blackbird, the chat is retiring; and 
for the most of the time he is in hiding just as 
he is at this very moment. His song — If song 
one may call it — Is familiar to many who, like 
yourself, never saw the bird or if they saw him 
they did not know him as the singer of the familiar 
notes. I should say there are three distinct notes 



A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 7 

in the chat's song: a saucy chuckle, a harsh, scold- 
ing cry, and a shrill, not unmusical whistle. He 
has other notes — many of them. He's a mimic. 
Yes, sir, the chat is a most eccentric fellow. He's 
versatile, a bit of a ventriloquist, and something 
of an acrobat. When he sees us he will bend back 
and forth on the limb and turn his head from 
side to side in a way that is comical. Ah, there he 
is at his scolding again! Come on and we'll spy 
out the beggar." 

Cautiously we made a path through the under- 
brush. '' There he is," announced my guide, and 
looking in the direction his finger was pointing I 
saw the denizen of the ravine whose identity I had 
not until then been able to discover. Mr. Edge- 
comb had described him accurately. I looked at 
the bird curiously. So this was the mysterious 
stranger I had so long been eager to know ! Re- 
treating further back into the underbrush, the 
chat bowed his head from side to side and twisted 
himself back and forth in a queer commingling of 
a serio-comic performance. For perhaps ten min- 
utes we watched the antics of the chat, until seem- 
ingly offended by our prolonged intrusion he dis- 
appeared in a spot where the underbrush was 
thicker and darker; and from that security he 
scolded and chuckled to his heart's content. 

Such was the happy beginning of my acquaint- 
ance with Roger Edgecomb : minister of the Gos- 
pel, nature lover, and best of companions indoors 
or out. From that day on he and I were often to- 



8 FAIRHOPE 

gether; we tramped over the farm and the sur- 
rounding country, and there is scarcely a nook or 
corner in the county that we haven't poked in and 
about. Under his tutelage I have come to know 
more accurately than I had ever thought possible, 
the birds of Kentucky. Numbering among my 
friends many ministers, with the advent of Edge- 
comb I began to write a new chapter in my life. 

In the course of our long tramps it was but 
natural, I suppose, that I should give Edgecomb 
little by little the story of our community life; 
and especially of Fairhope church which is per- 
haps the best known of all the country congrega- 
tions of northern Kentucky. In a way my delight 
in listening to him reveal his knowledge of birds 
and trees and flowers was paralleled by his inter- 
est in my simple narratives of our people, our 
preachers, and the lights and shadows of our rural 
religious life. It was on a day in the month of 
roses, after a half-day spent along the woods which 
fringe the Ohio River bluffs, that Edgecomb 
broached the subject to me that had been on his 
mind for some time. We were eating our lunch 
in the shade of a huge sycamore near the mouth of 
Garrison Creek. I had sketched for him some 
incidents in the life of an unique character who 
for nearly a half-century had been a pillar in Fair- 
hope Church. When I had done Edgecomb turned 
to me, a more serious expression on his bronzed 
face than usual. 

'' My friend," he said, '* there is one duty that 



A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 9 

awaits your doing. For forty years you have lived 
in this interesting country and your life has been 
in and of a country church rainbowed by romance; 
a type of church, too, that is fast passing away 
forever. You ought to write down the story of 
Fairhope and so keep green the memory of an 
unique rural church life — a life that already be- 
longs to another day and generation." 

I laughed the matter off lightly, and helping my- 
self to another cold beef sandwich, sought to 
change the subject. But Edgecomb would not let 
me dispose of the matter in that way. He is a per- 
sistent fellow, I tell you, and usually accomplishes 
what he sets out to do. Nevertheless, not until he 
had spoken to me a half-dozen times perhaps, did 
I begin to regard the project seriously or view it 
with any favour. Even then I came to no decision 
and gave him no reason to believe that I would 
act favourable to his wishes; until there came a 
morning glorious beyond description, when I set 
out across the fields to look after some fence that 
I had been told was needing attention. From the 
hedge rows a brown thrasher sang with abandon. 
Farther off a mocking-bird surpassed the rival of 
the hedge row. Over in the orchard a cardinal 
whistled in sheer delight, and faintly from a nearby 
meadow came the plaintive song of a field spar- 
row. I felt the magic spell of the morning and my 
old love for that God-favoured spot welling up 
within me, reminded me of Edgecomb's interest in 
my writing down a narrative that would embalm 



lo FAIRHOPE 

the memories and glories of this community of 
northern Kentucky. And while I was thinking of 
this, there came from the midst of the thicket of 
tangled vine and pawpaw trees the sauciest of 
chuckles and then a shrill, flute-like whistle. That 
decided me ! 

And thus it came about : through the instrumen- 
tality of a minister and a yellow-breasted chat that 
I, David Westbrooke, rural churchman, sometime 
traveller, and hopeful bachelor, came to write 
down the story of Fairhope* 



FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 



FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 

Travellers approaching Cincinnati from the 
west on railways that parallel the Ohio River, are 
certain to observe the high hills which like continu- 
ous fortifications mark the boundary of the Ken- 
tucky side. In winter these hills are bleak, bare, and 
austere. In spring they are lovely in apparel of soft- 
est green variegated by occasional bursts of pink 
and purple blossoms. In autumn they are robed in 
hues of russet and red, splendidly set off by 
splotches of yellow ranging in shade from a light 
lemon to deepest orange. Skirting the base of these 
hills and mounting them by tortuous windings, are 
the turnpike highways which lead to the fertile 
farms on the tableland at the top. The scenery 
along these river hills is rugged everywhere; in 
places it is picturesque in deep gorges, rock-bot- 
tomed, and bordered with profusion of wild and 
dark tangled underbrush. Rock beds crop boldly 
out on all sides, and often in fantastic formation. 
Indeed, the county of Boone has long been of espe- 
cial interest to the geologists, who find here nu- 
merous and eloquent fossil relics of a militant, 
prehistoric life. This is particularly true of the 
southern part of the county where the land is 
rough and broken, forming a section known as 
the Knobs. 

In this northernmost county of Kentucky, not far 
from the lordly river, and amidst a populous 
farming community, is Fairhope meeting-house. 

13 



14 FAIRHOPE 

I like much that quaint, old-fashioned name of 
meeting-house, loved and cherished by our New 
England forbears. It is a beautifully significant 
name ; a meeting-house where men and women may 
meet their Maker, and so meeting Him meet one 
another in sweet and enduring fellowships. For 
very many years our people always spoke of the 
church building as the meeting-house rather than 
the church. Indeed, I can recall the time when to 
speak otherwise was to occasion suspicion of grave 
departure from *' sound speech." But now I sel- 
dom hear this old-fashioned name for the House 
of God. Instead, the name '' church " is in com- 
mon and constant use. Thus do terms as well as 
customs change, and what was unorthodox phrase- 
ology yesterday is accepted as sound and Scriptural 
speech to-day. 

From the window where I am writing I can see 
the slender steeple of Fairhope meeting-house 
which is all of a mile away. It is midsummer and 
here and there amid the thick foliage of oak and 
elm and maple I can discern part of the ridge 
comb of the high pitched roof, and nearly all of 
the slender spire. The present structure is the 
third in the six and fifty years of the congrega- 
tion's existence. The first a plain little meeting- 
house, gave way to a larger and better appearing 
edifice in 1862; and the present substantial stnic- 
ture replaced the second, which was destroyed by 
fire in the fall of 1892. 

The building is a frame structure, painted white, 



FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 15 

with green shutters; and is rectangular in shape. 
It is considerably larger than most country meet- 
ing-houses and will seat comfortably three hun- 
dred and fifty persons. A tall steeple straddles the 
roof above the entrance and adds much to the 
appearance of the building. A double door admits 
into a vestibule ; and within are two doors on either 
side, each facing an aisle. The interior is plain but 
substantial. The high backed pews are stained 
brown, as is also the pulpit desk. Flanking the pul- 
pit left and right are pews running lengthwise 
and these form the ^' Amen Corners." 

Fairhope meeting-house adorns a plot of ground 
richly favoured by nature. The building stands 
upon a pleasing elevation which on the one hand 
slopes gradually to Dry Creek, and on the other 
stretches out in level fields to the river bluffs two 
miles distant. 

Dry Creek is deserving of a brief description 
since it is an interesting stream and does not belie 
its name. For the greater part it is of solid rock 
bottom, and with the exception of certain deep 
holes it is most of the time actually dry. But dur- 
ing heavy rainfalls and the sudden breaking up 
of winter, the creek rises rapidly and becomes 
bank full of swift running water in an incredibly 
short time. Fording Dry Creek after a heavy 
rain is always perilous and seldom necessary for 
the flood subsides as quickly as it rises. 

In front of the church is the main travelled turn- 
pike and on the side next the creek is a dirt road 



i6 FAIRHOPE 

which — like all such roads in our county — is 
ideal for driving in good weather, but in times of 
heavy rains or February thaws become almost im- 
passable. Noble trees — elm, oak, and maple — 
shade the edifice and directly back of the building 
is the cemetery (an acre and one-half in area), 
where sleep so many of our blessed dead. An 
osage hedge fence completely surrounds the plot 
of ground on which the meeting-house stands, 
alongside of which are hitching posts and feed 
racks for the horses of the worshippers; and in 
these later days a parking place for automobiles. 
Less than two city blocks distant is a little cross 
roads village with a blacksmith shop, a general 
store, and a tobacco warehouse. 

Looking east from Fairhope, one can see the 
distant hills beyond the Ohio River. To the south 
lie the fertile farms in landscapes of mingled wood- 
land and blue grass pastures. To the west the hills 
of Indiana are just discernible on clear days; and 
the majestic river itself which borders this north- 
ernmost county like a great horseshoe, may be ac- 
curately traced for a part of its course by the trail- 
ing clouds of smoke from the steamboats plying 
up or down the stream. 

Thus it is that the very name Fairhope is de- 
scriptive of the natural beauties of this rural 
church's environs, while suggesting as well the 
great spiritual entities for which it stands. 

Yet, Fairhope takes its name not from the fair 
spot it occupies; nor yet again from that great 



FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 17 

Hope which is as an anchor to the soul, and sym- 
boHsed by every church building; but from old 
Colonel Fairhope who gave the two acres for the 
cemetery and church purposes. The Colonel was 
a veteran of the Mexican War and he lost his life 
in the great Civil conflict in the Sixties. He was a 
bachelor, the last of his line, and there is not a 
single Fairhope so far as I know in all the State 
to perpetuate the memory of the noble man. His 
dust slumbers not far away from the House of 
God which gives a certain immortality to a name 
which otherwise might have perished from the 
earth. 

The reference to the name of Fairhope serves 
to remind me of the names of neighbours and 
friends who through all these years have been in 
and of Fairhope meeting-house. When I think of 
them I think of Fairhope; and when I think of 
Fairhope I think at once of the Throckmortons, 
the Boardmans, the Shelleys, the Walmsleys, the 
Robbins, the Brownings, the Johnsons, the 
Dodges, the Brookings, the Menifees, the Van 
Gorders, the Paynes, the Subletts, the Perrys, the 
Westbrookes — our friends and our neighbours, 
our kith and our kin. 

I make no attempt to conceal my affection for 
Fairhope church. AH my life has been lived in 
sight and sound of Fairhope's House of God, and 
the lives of those I know the best and love the 
most have been — and some are now entwined 
and intertwined about that country church's his- 



i8 FAIRHOPE 

tory. I know full well Fairhope's triumphs and 
failures, her lights and shadows; and as I write I 
seem to behold in long procession her preachers, 
her elders, her members young and old, good and 
bad, all heart of my heart, and life of my life. 

I have travelled some both in my native land 
and in the Old World; and in my journeyings I 
have everywhere carried — even in Paris — my in- 
terest in things and places religious. I have wor- 
shipped in some of the great and historic churches 
of the New World and the old; I have listened to 
Alexander Whyte in Free Saint George's, Edin- 
burgh; I have heard Reginald J. Campbell in the 
City Temple, London; I have sat in old Trinity, 
New York; I have worshipped in St. Paul's, and 
likewise in Westminster Abbey, London; and in 
one and all of these places set apart for praise 
and worship, and others not here named, I have 
felt in greater or lesser degree the presence of 
God. Yet in none of these have I experienced 
such exaltation of spirit, such elation of soul, as 
on many a Lord's day morning worshipping in 
Fairhope church in northern Kentucky with the 
glory of God's sunshine without, the cheery whis- 
tle of the cardinal grosbeak borne to my grateful 
ears through the open windows, and within the 
congregation worshipping God in simple peace and 
unaffected piety. 

It is our custom to observe every Lord's day the 
communion of the Lord's Supper. Simply, yet with 
becoming reverence, our elders conduct this serv- 



FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 19 

ice at the close of the sermon and the singing of 
the invitational hymn. Following brief but fitting 
comments on the origin and purpose of the institu- 
tion, there is a prayer of gratitude for the loaf, 
after which the bread is broken and distributed by 
the deacons to the worshippers. In like manner, 
there is a prayer of thanksgiving for the cup ; the 
goblets are filled from the tankard and the fruit 
of the vine passed to the people. 

Then follows a hymn, usually '^ Blest be the Tie 
that Binds," and the morning worship is ended. 
To many, it is during this simple service that those 
emotions are experienced which Isaac Watts so 
well described in what is perhaps his greatest 
hymn: 

** When I survey the wondVous Cross 
On which the Prince of Glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss^ 
And pour contempt on all my pride." 

More than once or twice, or even a score of 
times, Fairhope meeting-house has been for me the 
Gate of Heaven, and all that John Milton's great 
cathedral with storied windows and pealing organ 
accomplished for him, so that unadorned House 
of God with rural worshippers has *' dissolved me 
into ecstasies and brought all heaven before mine 
eyes." 

As I write, two score years of Fairhope's his- 
tory passes before me in moving pictures filled 
with familiar scenes and faces. After this fashion 



20 FAIRHOPE 

do I behold Fairhope's life, sometimes in larger 
outlines, in sweet intimacies, virtues and sins, 
humours and tragedies ; the whole softened by time 
and reflection as the summer twilight softens the 
landscape and haloes the commonest bush with 
glory and romance. 



THE DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 
AND DEBATE 



THE DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 
AND DEBATE 

Whoever writes of the controversial period in 
American church history must have a care lest he 
distort events or caricature persons who were as 
loyal to the cause they loved as were those brave 
knights when chivalry was in flower. The back- 
ground of the polemics of a half-century ago and 
more has faded away and the atmosphere which 
imparted gusto to the doctrinal debates, has gone 
forever. These facts make it a difficult and deli- 
cate matter to deal fairly with a once popular and 
vital phase of religious life in the Middle West. 

The early days of Fairhope were the days of 
controversy and debate. Our congregation was 
part of a religious movement which originated in 
a plea for the unity of all God's people by a " res- 
toration of primitive Christianity, its doctrines, its 
ordinances, and its fruits." Practically all the 
older members of Fairhope were men and women 
who left the churches of their fathers in order to 
protest against a divided Christendom. The fact 
that their protest possessed the ironical setting of 
adding another body to the more than one hun- 
dred denominations already existing in America 
was not a condition of their making or wish. 

Controversy, argument, and debate, were the 
natural order of those days. Disputation was held 
in high esteem. Ability to argue was a gift greatly 
to be desired on the part of the preacher. The 

23 



24 FAIRHOPE 

preachers of those days were for the most part 
skilled dialecticians. Often have I heard the ac- 
count of a notable service in Fairhope's first meet- 
ing-house when a distinguished minister and 
scholar of national reputation was the preacher. 
The little building was crowded to the doors and 
many were unable to get inside. This eminent per- 
sonage was at that time well advanced in years, a 
venerable and patriarchal appearing man, and 
during the delivery of his sermon he leaned heavily 
upon a cane. This distinguished man was a guest 
overnight in our home and the impression he left 
of courtliness and gracious personality was such 
as our family never forgot, and the memory of 
his visit is preserved by us to this day and cher- 
ished with pride. In American church history this 
eminent reformer is known chiefly as a controver- 
sialist, but he was much more. He was a scholar 
and a most gallant Christian gentleman. Unhap- 
pily, though, some who followed him were not so 
radiant of spirit and were fiercely argumentative 
and partisan in their defence of the faith once for 
all delivered to the saints. 

The old-fashioned man who studied the Scrip- 
tures in order that he might argue with the 
preacher, is for the most part obsolete ; but there 
were many of his kind in the early days of Fair- 
hope. Giles Shockley was one such. Giles de- 
lighted to quiz the preachers young and old on 
Biblical topics. But Giles was practical in his pur- 
poses and spurned all fanciful queries or mere 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 25 

catch questions. Others were not. '* Where did 
Cain get his wife? " '' What kind of a mark was 
it that God put on Cain? '' '' Did the angels have 
wings? '* *' If angels have wings why did they use 
Jacob's ladder?" These and kindred questions 
were launched at the preacher in those days, and 
if he treated them contemptuously or failed to 
make some sort of satisfactory answer, his stock 
was sure to go down in the estimation of many. 

Thirty-five and forty years ago our county was 
an arena for debates on religious topics, some of 
which were of wide celebrity. At least three de- 
bates that were considered sufficiently important to 
warrant publication, took place in our county; and 
one of these in Fairhope meeting-house. These 
debates attracted great crowds and were the means 
of arousing intense interest. It is quite impossible 
for those who did not live through this period of 
religious controversy to understand the impor- 
tance attached to the debates. They were outstand- 
ing events of those days. Prior to the debate there 
was usually a great deal of correspondence be- 
tween the participants; a correspondence, too, of a 
serious nature and weighed down with a ponderous 
kind of solemnity. Whatever may be our views 
of these debates now, they were not held in light 
esteem by the men who engaged in them and pro- 
claimed fearlessly their doctrinal beliefs. These 
debates were conducted with marked dignity and 
a great deal of ceremony. 

The following '' Preliminary Rules of Discus- 



26 FAIRHOPE 

sion " of a debate held forty years ago in northern 
Kentucky, and widely attended, show the formal- 
ity with which these meetings were conducted, and 
also the seriousness that characterised them as a 
livhole. 

1. The Debate shall commence at such time, 
and be held in such place, as the Debators shall 
decide when they meet. 

2. Each Disputant shall elect a Moderator, and 
these shall choose a third, who shall act as Presi- 
dent. 

3. In the opening of each new subject the af- 
firmant shall occupy one hour, and the respondent 
the same length of time — each subsequently shall 
alternately occupy half an hour, till the subject is 
disposed of. 

4. The Debate shall open at precisely half-past 
nine o'clock and shall close at half-past eleven, 
A.M., each day; and in the afternoon commence at 
precisely one o'clock and close at four. 

5. The Debatants agree to adopt, and be gov- 
erned by, the rules of decorum found in '' Hedge's 
Logic," page 159, a copy of which work shall be 
upon the Moderator's desk, for reference. 

6. King James' translation of the Holy Scrip- 
tures, generally known as the common version, 
shall be the umpire on all Biblical questions. 

7. The rules of interpretation laid down in the 
seventeenth chapter of '' Hedge's Logic " shall 
govern the parties in their Biblical criticism; but 
either party may refer to other translations, com- 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 27 

mentaries, and writings, to prove the correctness 
of his interpretations. 

With these rules before him, one who never at- 
tended such a debate should be able to visualise the 
scene: the three moderators sitting in state, the 
two champions of serious mien, the formidable 
pile of books and documents on a nearby desk or 
table, the crowded building with the eager ex- 
pectant faces and air of suppressed excitement. 
With such a setting for a discussion on Bible 
truths, it is not strange that interest in the religious 
debates was rampant fifty years ago. 

At Florence, a little town twelve miles from 
Fairhope, there took place a notable debate be- 
tween one of our champions and an equally able 
opponent from a denomination noted to this day 
for its zeal and orderly system. People came for 
fifty miles to hear these two celebrities in a series 
of discussions continuing three days. The excite- 
ment was at fever heat and many of the preachers 
from the large churches in Cincinnati and Coving- 
ton were in attendance. Practically all of Fair- 
hope's adult congregation was present at one or 
more of the sessions, and for days the principal 
topic of conversation in the community was this 
polemic event. 

The opening session of this debate was fea- 
tured by a choice bit of repartee worth recording 
here, both for its wit and as illustrating the spirit 
of these encounters. When the champion who op- 
posed our man arose to make the preliminary 



28 FAIRHOPE 

speech he said, '* At last I am to meet the great 
gladiator of whom I have heard for years, but 
not until to-day was ever privileged to see. I am 
told that my distinguished opponent is a man- 
eater. I have been advised to watch him carefully, 
lest he devour me whole at one gulp. But now 
that I have seen him I am not alarmed. He looks 
mild and gentle. Still — I will not throw all cau- 
tion aside until I have seen him in action." 

With this kind of an introduction he plunged 
into the statement of the proposition he was to 
defend. 

When it came time for our champion's rejoinder, 
he referred blandly to the opening remarks of his 
honourable and distinguished antagonist; and then 
deliberately and in the most solemn fashion, he 
admonished, " Let my brother and able opponent 
be calm. He is in no danger. He is as safe here as 
in the bosom of his family. I will not bite him for, 
like the Apostle Peter, I have never eaten any- 
thing common or unclean." 

This sally made a decided hit with our adher- 
ents, and for the time rather took the wind out of 
the sails of the first speaker. Further on in the 
debate, however, the tables were turned in some 
similar manner on our champion, and thus the 
honours were evened to the satisfaction of the 
large and extremely partisan audience. 

Another debate which attracted widespread at- 
tention was held six miles from Fairhope and at 
the county seat town. One of our ministers met 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 29 

there a Universalist in a two days' discussion. 
Great throngs were in attendance and the interest 
was widespread. In one of our man's speeches he 
gave an unwarranted, but vivid and really 
extraordinary description of Dives in torment cry- 
ing piteously for water; and at the close of the ter- 
rible portrayal he turned abruptly to his opponent 
and exclaimed, *' Now, I've got him in hell, you 
get him out — if you can! '' 

The Universalist preacher arose and with that 
torrid description of his opponent as text, he pro- 
ceeded to draw the most blistering caricature of the 
doctrine of the eternal punishment of the wicked 
imaginable. And he clinched his points by read- 
ing dramatically what he styled a '' perfectly ortho- 
dox hymn " which made the vivid description of 
our champion seem insipid and tame in compari- 
son. That hymn is printed in full in the published 
volume of this historic debate, and is interesting 
as a theological curio : 

** Behold, that great and awful day 
Of parting soon will come, 
When sinners must be hurled away. 
And Christians gathered home. 

** Perhaps the parent sees the child 
Sink down to endless flames, 
With shrieks, and howls, and bitter cries, 
Never to rise again. 

" O father, see my blazing hand ! 
Mother, behold your child! 



30 FAIRHOPE 

Against you now a witness stands, 
Amidst the flames confined. 

" The child, perhaps, the parents view 
Go headlong down to hell, 
Gone with the rest of Satan's crew, 
And bid the child farewell. 

" The husband sees his piteous wife, 
With whom he once did dwell, 
Depart with groans and bitter cries, 
My husband, fare you well. 

** But O, perhaps, the wife may see 
The man she once did love, 
Sink down to endless misery. 
While she is crowned above! " 

Having done with this part of his argument, 
which was certainly of the reductio ad absurdum 
sort par excellence, the Unlversalist's champion 
turned his attention to Dives whom — he ex- 
plained — was never really in hell at all; and that 
the parable had no reference to eternal punishment 
whatever. 

Our champion in this debate was James Cowell, 
and though not especially successjful In his en- 
counter with the Universalist, was really a brilliant 
preacher in the range of the disputatious and dog- 
matic. Since in a way he typifies one kind of min- 
ister common to most bodies in those days, he 
merits a fuller description. He was our minister 
at Fairhope for a period of three years. He re- 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 31 

sided on a farm in another State and preached half 
time for us ; that is, two Sundays each month. He 
usually arrived on Saturday afternoon and re- 
turned to his farm on Monday morning. As a 
polemic and doctrinal preacher, he was exception- 
ally able. He was a fine specimen of manhood, a 
veritable giant with Atlantean shoulders. He 
possessed a strong voice of great volume and an 
unusual talent as a mimic. He was fond of a good 
dinner and a good horse, and was a most enter- 
taining conversationalist. He could tell a story 
captivatingly. He had many friends in our county 
even among those who differed from him doc- 
trinarily. In our community to-day there are three 
men born during his ministry at Fairhope who were 
named for him, and this in itself is an eloquent 
proof of his popularity. 

This minister had a perfect passion for the con- 
troversial. He had a sermon in which he set out 
to prove conclusively that the thief on the cross 
was baptised and it took him all of two hours to 
preach it. One of his proof texts was Matthew 
3 : 5-6, " Then went out unto him Jerusalem and all 
Judea, and all the region around about the Jordan; 
and they were baptised of him in the river Jordan, 
confessing their sins." His argument was that if 
'* all " of Jerusalem and Judea were baptised of 
John this thief most certainly was not saved with- 
out baptism. Our most spiritual people did not 
care much for that sermon. Good Jacob Board- 
man expostulated with this preacher more than 



32 FAIRHOPE 

once, saying that this sermon in his opinion did 
more harm than good. Still, there were certain 
minds among us who approved of the sermon and 
even praised it highly. Giles Shockley, who prided 
himself on his soundness in the faith and who was 
our self-appointed detective of heresy, held that 
this sermon was truly Biblical. More than once 
Giles rode horseback as many as fifteen miles to 
hear Cowell repeat this particular sermon; and I 
recall that once Giles remarked to a group of Fair- 
hope's people, *' Brethren, James Cowell as a 
preacher of the Gospel has no equal in the world! 
Henry Ward Beecher might learn a lot from him, 
especially on baptism." 

Baptism was a perennially popular topic of ser- 
mons in those days, and the controversy raged 
thick and fierce over the ordinance. Our people 
are immersionists and it was expected in those days 
that baptism should have a prominent place in the 
sermon. James Cowell's biggest sermons were on 
baptism, and an announcement that he would speak 
on that subject would fill Fairhope meeting-house 
any time. In this connection a sensational incident 
occurred. Cowell was preaching on baptism one 
hot July night and there stood on the pulpit desk 
a glass of water. The house was well filled and 
on the front seat — almost under the pulpit — sat 
a member of another church, a prominent man, a 
class leader, and a well-to-do farmer. In the midst 
of a fervid plea for immersion the preacher did a 
sensational and most daring thing, and he did it 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 33 

mostly out of an overflowing sense of humour or 
the downright mischievousness that he possessed 
so largely. Dramatically he thrust his fingers into 
the glass of water and flinging out his arm in a 
dripping gesture, actually sprinkled the brother 
on the front seat, exclaiming as he did so, '' And 
you call this baptism ! " 

The class leader was, as Giles Shockley phrased 
it, '' considerably riled;" and no wonder! To-day 
a thing like that would be impossible, and it seems 
incredible almost that it could have ever happened 
without bringing down the indignation of the com- 
munity upon the doer. In that day it was tolerated, 
laughed over, and even defended by some. Giles 
Shockley approved of it, and after service that 
night he informed James Cowell that that was 
what he called " illustratin' the Gospel." 

Cowell sometimes used his skill as a mimic In 
the pulpit with entertaining, but not always edify- 
ing results. In the early days of Fairhope the doc- 
trine of total hereditary depravity was stoutly de- 
fended on the one hand and bitterly assailed on 
the other. Cowell used to burlesque infant damna- 
tion In realistic fashion. He would crook his pow- 
erful arms and make as though he were holding a 
baby, and croon and sing to It most motherly. 
Then suddenly he would press the imaginary baby 
close to his breast and exclaim, *' And you, you 
dear, sweet. Innocent babe, you are damned, you 
are damned forever, so men say. But O heart of 
my heart, Jesus says you are not. Jesus says ' of 



34 FAIRHOPE 

such is the kingdom of Heaven/ Jesus says we 
grown-up folks are damned unless we repent and 
become as you are. You are just from God and we 
old folks are a long time from Him. We are poor 
and sinful. You — blessed baby, you are sweet 
and pure and sinless. Would to God we were all 
as ready for heaven as you are." 

Sometimes this kind of monologue would con- 
tinue for all of ten minutes during which the audi- 
ence was divided between indignation on the part 
of some, approving laughter on the other, and in- 
tense interest on the part of all. 

There were giants in those days, and for the 
most part our ministers were grand and noble 
men; of their goodness and sincerity these annals 
bear witness I And they were true as steel to the 
cause dearer to them than life. Some of them 
made tremendous sacrifices because of their convic- 
tions, and all of them preached the Gospel as they 
read it set forth in the Holy Scriptures. Such 
an incident as James Cowell sprinkling water on 
the class leader was exceptional. Most of our 
ministers would not have countenanced such a 
thing; and yet from our view-point to-day it is dif- 
ficult to understand how any minister of the Gospel 
could do such things and believe himself to be 
defending the truth in so doing. 

In the development of the church the period 
of controversy was necessary. It certainly gave a 
tremendous interest to rehgion in those days; so 
much so that a sermon then which was not pug- 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 35 

naciously doctrinal seemed tame. Yet looking 
back upon that period now, I do not believe that 
the controversial spirit made for Christlikeness 
in the membership of the various churches. Our 
Fairhope people who were spiritual, were so de- 
spite this sort of thing and by no means because 
of it. Our noblest and most reverent-minded peo- 
ple tolerated it only because they believed it neces- 
sary. Some of the preachers disliked it and frankly 
said so in private conversation; but in their ser- 
mons to a greater or lesser degree they, too, dis- 
puted, argued, and controverted. Carter Good- 
pasture — one of the regular attendants at Fair- 
hope as well as at all the other churches in our 
community, but not a member of any — used to 
say that church people by the way they talked 
and argued, paraphrased First John 3 : 14 to read, 
" We know that we have passed out of death into 
life because we jight the brethren." 

But Carter in so saying did us scant justice. 
Our preachers did debate and argue, it is true ; and 
we church members argued and disputed among 
ourselves about religious doctrines and the ordi- 
nances ; and yet, strange as it may seem, we loved 
one another. Down below the surface where doc- 
trinal differences were much in evidence, we were 
brotherly and needed but an opportunity to prove 
it. When sickness or adversity or death came, we 
forgot or ignored our doctrinal differences; and 
ministered one to another in tenderest and kind- 
liest fashion. We wept with those who wept; and 



36 FAIRHOPE 

in those experiences we turned to God and His 
Christ, and our religion became at such times a 
great hope and strong comfort, merging us the 
while into blessed unity of spirit. Even Giles 
Shockley who was a warrior bold in the realm of 
the doctrinal, forgot to argue or contend and re- 
membered only to serve when sickness or accident 
laid low some neighbour. 

It was at the County Fair that Giles and Sam 
Bowman almost came to blows in an argument 
over the order of faith and repentance in conver- 
sion. Giles held that faith came first, and Sam 
stubbornly insisted that repentance came first. 
Friends separated them before any blows were 
struck, but they didn't speak to each other for 
all of a year. Nevertheless, when Sam was fatally 
hurt by the falling of a tree upon him, it was Giles 
who found him, carried him several miles to his 
home, and remained by his bedside until death 
mercifully relieved his sufferings. 

For one I am glad the period of acrimonious 
controversy and debate in matters religious is 
over. I have not heard in Fairhope Church but 
one or two controversial sermons after the old 
style and spirit in a dozen years ; but I have heard 
many a prayer on taming the tongue, on tempta- 
tion, on the mind of Christ, and other spiritual 
themes, that made me want the more to press on 
unto perfection. And if our preachers twenty- 
five and fifty years ago were with us now their 
great ability, their loyalty, and their devotion to 



DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 37 

the cause, would in all probability find its expres- 
sion in such preaching as this. While on the other 
hand, if our ministers of these modern times had 
flourished in the days of their predecessors of 
Fairhope and other churches of that period, be- 
yond any doubt they, too, would have been argu- 
mentative and dogmatic. The age was such; and 
to a greater or lesser extent as the chameleon par- 
takes of the colour of its surroundings, so men re- 
flect the spirit of their age. 

Somewhere I have read of the need of a moral 
equivalent of war, something that will bring out 
the heroic and a sturdy sense of loyalty in men 
without the carnage and rapine attendant on armed 
conflict; but Instead will result in those beneficent, 
social revolutions which tend to make earth a 
more habitable place for mankind. I like much 
that idea. And just so, I could wish that there 
might be a spiritual equivalent for the absorbing 
interest, fervid zeal, and serious concern, for re- 
ligion that rainbowed the days of debate and con- 
troversy with a sort of solemn splendour. 



THE PROTRACTED MEETINGS 



THE PROTRACTED MEETINGS 

An important and interesting feature of religious 
life in our community was the protracted meeting. 
In the city churches these services are usually called 
revivals or evangelistic meetings, and occasionally 
now I see the term '' decision services." But with 
us, protracted meetings is the homely and familiar 
term in common use among our people to describe 
those fruitful endeavours and special seasons for 
making of converts to the faith. These meetings, 
indeed, were the occasions when most of our con- 
verts were made. Conversions at the regular ser- 
vices were rare and not often expected. It was the 
custom of Fairhope and other congregations in 
our county to have a protracted meeting once a 
year, conducted sometimes by the regular minis- 
ter but oftener by a preacher imported for the 
occasion from some church of like faith in a near- 
by or distant portion of the State. 

Richard Marvin, who was our able and success- 
ful minister for all of twelve years, held four such 
meetings himself; and they were among the best 
we ever had. Our protracted meetings seldom 
lasted longer than two weeks, and were usually 
held in the fall of the year and preferably in the 
light of the moon. These meetings seldom failed 
to attract large audiences and stimulate evangelis- 
tic interest and fervour. The members of neigh- 
bouring churches of other faiths attended and en- 
tered with zest into the services. And it was our 

41 



42 FAIRHOPE 

custom to plan these meetings so they would not 
conflict in time ; thus giving opportunity for an at- 
tendance on the part of the peoples in the com- 
munity of the various denominations. 

I have seen Fairhope meeting-house packed to 
the doors time and again during protracted meet- 
ings. I have seen the children seated about the 
pulpit steps in order to give their places to adults. 
And the memories I have of notable sermons and 
conversions is considerable and very distinct. On 
the Lord's day of the protracted meetings there 
was usually a basket-dinner, provided the weather 
was suitable; and such dinners they were! The 
good housewives of our community — famous 
cooks for the most part — prepared for these oc- 
casions sumptuously. Cakes were baked by the 
dozens; angel's food cakes, devil's food, such old- 
fashioned confections as pound cake, sponge cake, 
jelly roll, and many other toothsome pastries. 
Chickens were slaughtered ruthlessly, fastidiously 
boiled and fried, and served most appetizingly. 
There were pickles and jams and preserves; and 
occasionally even freezers of Ice cream brought. 
No wonder the basket-dinners were usually at- 
tended by every able-bodied man and woman and 
child in the community who could get away from 
home. On basket-meeting Lord's day three ser- 
vices were held, the special service being the after- 
noon preaching. The two long, stout tables on 
which so many of these dinners were served may 
still be seen in the rear of Fairhope meeting-house, 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 43 

little used now, but monuments as it were to that 
period of big basket-meetings and the crowds of 
neighbours and friends representative of all the 
religious bodies in the community who practised 
Christian unity in this respect with beautiful and 
bountiful hospitality. 

Usually the preachers entered into the basket- 
meetings with zest, especially city ministers. The 
truth is, I recall but one preacher of the many who 
held meetings for us to whom these basket dinners 
were nightmares. He was a dyspeptic; a sallow, 
thin-chested, hollow-cheeked, pasty-complexioned, 
sort of a personage with the appetite of a dove. 
This man fell into high disfavour with our good 
women because he refused to eat hot bread; de- 
clined pie of every kind; and fairly anathematised 
mince pie in particular. He also spurned pickles, 
eyed marmalades suspiciously, and actually ate but 
one piece of fried chicken at a meal. He finally in- 
formed some of Fairhope's women that he was 
on a diet. This man's meetings were a flat failure, 
although he was a sermoniser of more than or- 
dinary ability. His failure was due, I think, to his 
ailing stomach and consequent poor appetite. At 
any rate. Cousin Sallie Jo Brooking — famous 
alike for her excellent cooking and her very blunt 
speech — declared with emphasis, ''The Lord 
ought not to allow a man to preach who can't eat; 
and the next time our elders call a man to hold 
us a meeting they ought to be sure that he has 
eatin' ability as well as preachin' ability." 



44 FAIRHOPE 

Very different from this minister was a big- 
bodied, full-blooded preacher of the Gospel who 
held a successful meeting for us one fall; and who 
was not only a hearty but a prodigious eater. His 
ability to make away with the tempting edibles 
prepared by our splendid cooks both amazed and 
delighted his hostesses. A more enthusiastic cham- 
pion of fried chicken never breathed, and pies of 
every kind straightway set his mouth to watering. 
Major Menifee asked this man once if he did not 
sometimes find it necessary to eat sparingly just 
before preaching a sermon. The minister an- 
swered the Major quick as a flash, *' Not at all! 
I just eat all I want and preach all I can^ 

But this feature of our protracted meetings, im- 
portant and attractive as it was to many, was only 
incidental to the spiritual feasts served us at such 
seasons. The good of these special services was 
much in evidence in those early days. It took usu- 
ally about a week's preaching to the church and a 
warming over of those who were already mem- 
bers, to bring about the proper atmosphere for 
conversions. Seldom did any '* go forward " dur- 
ing the first week of the meeting. Young Harmon 
Vaughn held in the second year of his ministry at 
Fairhope, the longest protracted meeting in the 
history of our congregation — a solid month — 
and Vaughn preached all of two weeks without 
a single convert. The night of his second Lord's 
day in this meeting he closed his sermon with a 
most melting sort of invitation to obey the Gospel; 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 45 

and when nobody stirred, he slammed his hymn 
book down on the communion table with a re- 
sounding whack, and exclaimed, ^' This commun- 
ity is Gospel-hardened! You people are as hard 
as flint! You are sermon-scarred veterans! You 
make me mad ! I am going to quit and go where 
people have hearts as well as souls; where they 
will respond to the invitation of Jesus 
Christ." 

After the sermon Jacob Boardman came up and 
gently expostulated with Vaughn, who was actually 
angry and ready to give up in utter discourage- 
ment. 

'' Look here. Brother Vaughn," the old man 
counselled mildly and affectionately, *' don't you be 
weary in well doing. God's Word won't return 
to Him void. It never has. It never will! Don't 
shake the dust of this sinful community off your 
feet, my brother. Shake the blue devils out of 
your system. You go on with your preaching. 
The people will come to Jesus by-and-by/' 

And come they did. Forty-four of them; and 
the meeting — taken as a whole — in some re- 
spects was one of the most noteworthy ever held 
in Fairhope meeting-house. 

I recall some really remarkable conversions 
during our protracted meetings. Such a one was 
that of old Abe Brocunior. Old Abe was one of 
our disreputable citizens; profane, ribald, a drunk- 
ard, a blatant infidel, and a sinner of most un- 
savoury reputation. He was past seventy years old 



46 FAIRHOPE 

and the community judged him a hopeless case so 
far as reformation was concerned. He seldom at- 
tended church and whenever he did it was to sit in 
the backmost seat to ridicule the preacher, blas- 
pheme religion, and take a vicious delight in bring- 
ing in view the family skeleton of the worshippers 
as he sat there whispering to young fellows who 
sat near him. Somehow, old Abe took a fancy 
to young Vaughn who one day made the old man 
a friendly visit, remained an hour, and never said 
a word to Abe in criticism of his evil habits or 
about coming into the church. The latter part of 
the second week of the meeting old Abe began to 
attend the services. Sitting in the rearmost seat 
at first, he began gradually to sit further toward 
the front; and for the first time in the memory of 
our community he made no criticisms or denuncia- 
tions of church members or preacher. One night 
in the middle of the last week of the meetings, 
Vaughn preached from the text, '' And him that 
cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." It was 
a very tender sermon showing the love of God, 
and the invitation was pressed with impassioned 
power. The invitation hymn was the old familiar, 
'' Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood 
was shed for me." The first stanza of that hymn 
had scarcely begun when old Abe, utterly broken 
in spirit and crying like a little child, came forward 
and sinking down in the front pew, buried his tear- 
stained face in his hands. His coming melted us 
all; Jacob Boardman wept, most of the women 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 47 

were sobbing, Vaughn was visibly affected, and 
even Giles Shockley was moved. 

Fairhope people are much given to handshak- 
ing, and during protracted meetings it has long 
been the custom for our ministers to invite all who 
wish to bid the new converts Godspeed, to come 
to the front and give them a hearty clasp of the 
hand. It is a homely, but a brotherly custom and 
a revealing one, as well. A close observer, looking 
on, would perceive that some shake hands stifHy 
and in a purely perfunctory fashion, others shake 
not only hands but arms also, and with the vigour 
and motion of pumping water; but all with a 
genial and sincere joy shining in their faces. In a 
similar manner the hand of fellowship was ex- 
tended to the new members after their baptism, 
and to those who came by letter from sister 
churches. Usually the congregation stood during 
the singing of some such hymn as, 

*' Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love," 

while the members left their pews, and in single 
file passed down between the pulpit and the front 
seat to extend the hand of welcome. We invari- 
ably shook the minister's hand, too, on such occa- 
sions; and there was power and praise in such 
services. 

The night of old Abe Brocunior's conversion, 
when Vaughn invited the congregation to greet 
the new convert, nearly everybody responded; old 



48 FAIRHOPE 

and young, saint and sinner, went forward to wring 
his hand and wish him well. All the ice went out 
in the melting warmth of that closing service, and 
the way was opened for two score more conver- 
sions. Best of all, the old man remained true to his 
profession the remaining years of his poor broken 
life. 

Another meeting, one held by Richard Marvin, 
witnessed the conversion of Abner Sublett under 
peculiar circumstances. Sublett was a substantial 
farmer whose family were all in the church and 
most interested in religion. He was a believer, but 
he had so long postponed a public confession of 
faith that it seemed he simply could not muster 
up courage sufficient to take the step. Meeting 
after meeting passed and he remained not unmoved 
but still outside the Kingdom. Each time we hoped 
and prayed that Abner would '' go forward." In- 
terested he always was; liberal in his contributions; 
never missing a service; but still unresponsive to 
the invitation. One night during protracted meet- 
ings we thought Abner was surely '^ going for- 
ward." The sermon profoundly stirred him; and 
during the hymn of invitation he actually started 
up the aisle, but got only to the next pew where 
he stopped, gripped the back of the pew in front 
of him with both hands, and could get no 
further. 

Richard Marvin was at Sublett's for dinner dur- 
ing these meetings, a day or two after the service 
in which Abner started up the aisle. After dinner 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 49 

he and Abner walked out over the farm to look 
at the stock, and particularly some fat cattle. It 
was a glorious day in early October, one of those 
golden days when the tinge of autumn is on field 
and tree, and a slight haze hovers like a halo over 
the land. As the two men strolled across the fields, 
the minister could not resist the temptation to talk 
to Abner about his soul and salvation. 

*' Abner," for Richard Marvin had been among 
our people so long that he called many of us by 
our first name. ^' Abner," he said, '' God has been 
good to you. What a grand farm you have. What 
a comfortable home. What a fine family! Yet, 
Abner, you have not honoured God as He has hon- 
oured you." 

The old man was plainly agitated. He stopped 
short and looked across the level fields toward the 
house just visible in the clump of maple trees. 

*' You're right. Brother Marvin. Yet I want to 
honour God. I want to confess His Son as my 
Saviour. But somehow I can't go forward; my 
legs give out, I feel as though I was going to fall. 
I just can't go, I — " 

'' Abner," interrupted Richard Marvin, '' do 
you believe in Jesus Christ as your Saviour? " 

** That I do, with all my heart, Richard." 

" Then let us pray right here and now," sug- 
gested Marvin. The two men knelt in that blue- 
grass pasture with the fat cattle grazing near, and 
the deep blue sky overhead. Marvin thanked God 
for the confession of Abner Sublett, and prayed 



50 FAIRHOPE 

the blessing of the Father to be upon him and all 
his household; prayed that God would give him 
strength now to confess further his faith in the 
ordinance of baptism, and to unite with the church. 
Abner Sublett said ^' Amen " to that prayer. That 
night Richard Marvin told the congregation in 
Fairhope meeting-house of the confession taken 
out in God's great out-of-doors, and announced 
that Brother Sublett would be baptised the next 
day in Woolper Creek. And again Fairhope's con- 
gregation wept in pure joy because another soul 
had been borne into the Kingdom. Never did we 
sing the long metred doxology more understand- 
ingly than at that service. Far across the fields the 
words were carried by the pleasant evening 
breezes: 

*' Praise God from whom all blessings flow, 
Praise Him all creatures here below, 
Praise Him all ye heavenly hosts, 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 

Our baptismal services are usually impressive. 
Our present meeting-house has a baptistry built in 
it, but for the most part our converts are still bap- 
tised in the streams or the nearby Ohio River. To 
this day our baptismal services stir me deeply. 
Looking back over the stretch of years, I recall 
several baptismal services that are indelibly im- 
pressed on my memory. Some of these baptisms 
took place in the Ohio River, one such was during 
the last protracted meeting held for us by Richard 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 51 

Marvin. One Lord's day he baptised some fifteen 
persons in the river. The place of the baptism was 
at a bend in the river where the pebbled beach 
sloped gently out from the shore-line to the deeper 
water, an ideal place for such a service. To the 
rear of us were the precipitous bluffs on the Ken- 
tucky side, and across the stream were the fertile 
bottoms and the willow-lined shores of Indiana. 
A large crowd was present and there was no dis- 
order or confusion. The candidates were led out 
into the water up to their waists, and then after 
the simple formula pronounced by the minister 
they were gently lowered beneath the water. As 
they emerged dripping from the stream, raised 
up by the strong arm of the minister, the throng 
on the shore sang one verse of, 

** Happy day, happy day^ 
When Jesus washed my sins away; 
He taught me how to watch and pray, 
And live rejoicing every day." 

The service that day was scarcely half over 
when an excursion boat from Cincinnati swung 
around the bend. This boat carried a steam cal- 
liope on which the musician had been playing popu- 
lar airs. Seeing the crowd, however, at the water's 
edge, and noting the baptismal service — not an 
uncommon sight even to this day along the river 
— the calliope began playing, " Nearer, my God, 
to Thee." The excursionists ceased their merry- 
making and very quietly and reverently watched 



52 FAIRHOPE 

the beautiful and impressive service until the boat 
had passed that point. 

I recall another baptismal service conducted by 
James Cowell at the same place in the Ohio River. 
One of those baptised at that time was a frail girl, 
named Searcy, the daughter of a tenant living on 
the Walmsley farm. Her father was a raw-boned, 
wildish sort of man, who objected vigorously to 
his daughter joining the church, and had threat- 
ened to do bodily injury to any minister who tried 
to " dip " Lina — that was his daughter's name. 
However, the young girl courageously came along 
with the rest and was in her turn led out into the 
waters of the Ohio. Her father — his face dark 
with anger — looked on from farther up the bank. 
The girl, wan and frail, and unnaturally pale 
probably from fright, looked like a being from 
another world as she clasped her hands over her 
thin breast and the minister pronounced the words, 
*' I baptise thee, Lina, In the name of the Father, 
Son, and Holy Spirit." Then he gently lowered 
her under the water, lifted her up again, and as- 
sisted her to the shore. By the time she and James 
Cowell reached the shore, her father was at the 
water's edge, having made his way quickly through 
the crowd which fell back Instantly to let him pass, 
though some of the men were watching him closely. 
But Instead of offering any violence to the minis- 
ter, he put his arms around Lina and kissed her 
on both cheeks. Turning to the minister he said, 
*' Brother Cowell, baptise me." 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 53 

*' Do you believe in Christ as your Lord and 
Saviour? " 

'* I do," said Searcy. And divesting himself of 
his shoes, hat and coat, he suffered himself to 
be led out into the deeper water; and like his 
daughter was buried with his Lord in the ordi- 
nance of baptism. How the men and women sang 
*' Happy day," as that man came up out of the 
water ! How they shook Bob Searcy's hands and 
wished him well! The memory of that melting 
service is as distinct to me to-day as though it 
had occurred but yesterday. 

Forty years ago it was not unusual for us to 
baptise in midwinter when ice six or eight inches 
thick had to be cut for the purpose. My mother 
was baptised under such conditions, though I was 
too young to remember it. But I have witnessed 
some half-dozen baptisms myself in the coldest 
winter weather. At such times as soon as the can- 
didates came out of the icy waters, they were 
warmly wrapped in heavy blankets and taken to 
the nearest farm-house for change of clothing. I 
do not recall ever hearing of any one taking 
cold from such exposures. I have seen Richard 
Marvin in the late fall — when the water was 
very cold — stand in a deep hole in Woolper 
Creek for all of half an hour baptising people, 
without the protection of rubber suits such as are 
now used by ministers while immersing; and still 
I never knew of his suffering any bad effects from 
such a service in the chilly stream. 



54 FAIRHOPE 

It is probably true that some of our people at- 
tach too much importance to the ordinance of bap- 
tism. Giles Shockley and a few others held insist- 
ently that our sins were not forgiven till the act 
of baptism was consummated. I heard Giles once 
in a very heated argument with a minister of an- 
other communion in which he declared that if a 
man was on the way to be baptised and a limb of a 
tree struck him and killed him, he would die with- 
out any promise of forgiveness because he died un- 
baptised. But this was extreme, and our best and 
most spiritual minds never held to such a legalistic 
view. 

Not long ago I was In a large city over Lord's 
day and worshipped at one of its influential 
churches. The building is beautiful and well ap- 
pointed, and there is a trained chorus-choir which 
appeared the night I heard them in surplices after 
the Episcopal fashion. The service, all in all, 
was helpful; the sermon was strong and thor- 
oughly evangelistic; but the singing of the choir 
impressed me most. And not especially because 
their singing was so excellent, though it was such; 
nor because they wore surplices. Rather in spite 
of that fact. But I remembered that service most 
and longest for the reason that the second selec- 
tion sung by the chorus-choir was, 

** O happy day that fixed my choice 
On Thee, my Saviour and my God. 
Well may this glowing heart rejoice, 
And tell its raptures all abroad. 



PROTRACTED MEETINGS 55 

** Happy day, happy day, 
When Jesus washed my sins away. 
He taught me how to watch and pray, 
And live rejoicing every day/' 

As the words and melody filled the spacious edi- 
fice, I lost sense of time and place and there un- 
folded before my misty vision the great bend of a 
lordly river, the level pebbly shore, and a company 
of men and women gathered there. The figure of 
a broad shouldered man standing up to his waist 
in the stream, lowering gently beneath the water 
a calm and contrite young woman, and then raising 
her dripping body up again, while on the bank two 
score voices joined souifuUy in singing, ** Happy 
day;* 



THE SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 



THE SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 

The singing in Falrhope meeting-house has expe- 
rienced almost as many vicissitudes as the preach- 
ing services; but on the whole our singing has al- 
ways been, I think, an edifying part of the worship. 
For many years a singing school was an important 
adjunct to the church and all members were urged 
to enrol. Sometimes the congregation employed 
the singing master, other times the expense was 
met by individual subscription. Practically all our 
older members were taught to sing in this way. 
Forty years ago, and longer, Fairhope's congre- 
gation — almost to a member — could sing any 
hymn the leader might '' raise." Jacob Boardman 
could lead congregational singing fairly success- 
fully up to a few years of his death. Our older 
preachers were splendid singers and notably so 
Richard Marvin. 

The organ question which was long a bone of 
contention in northern Kentucky churches, was 
never serious with us. In the seventies we began to 
use instrumental music in the Sunday School, and 
in a few years the organ was heard in the preach- 
ing service as well. Some congregations were di- 
vided by the installing of the organ, but the objec- 
tion to its use in Fairhope was not considerable, 
nor of long duration. 

The first hymnal that Fairhope purchased and 
used was without notes. It was a pudgy, fat, little 

59 



6o FAIRHOPE 

book, possibly three by four inches, and full two 
and one-half inches thick. It contained one thou- 
sand three hundred and twenty-four hymns, a 
really great collection for that day. Some of the 
selections in this hymnal are so far as I know, in 
no other; and I recall one such in particular. It 
is a tribute to the Bible, and the tune was '' The 
Old Oaken Bucket." I include it here in full, since 
it revives the memory of the song service in rural 
churches such as this present generation cannot 
know; and likewise, the stanzas are fraught with 
the spirit of reverence that our people felt and 
loved to express for the Holy Scriptures. 

" How painfully pleasing the fond recollection 

Of youthful connections and innocent joy, 
When bless'd with parental advice and affection, 

Surrounded with mercies — with peace from on high ! 
I still view the chairs of my father and mother, 

The seats of their offspring as ranged on each hand ; 
And that richest of books, which excelPd ev'ry other, 

The family Bible that lay on the stand. 
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible, 

The family Bible that lay on the stand. 

" That Bible, the volume of Grod's inspiration. 

At morn and at evening could yield us delight ; 
And the prayV of our sire was a sweet invocation 

For mercy by day and for safety thro' night ; 
Our hymn of thanksgiving with harmony swelling. 

All warm from the heart of the family band, 
Has rais'd us from earth to that rapturous dwelling 

Described in the Bible that lay on the stand ; 



SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 6i 

The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible, 
The family Bible that lay on the stand. 

" Ye scenes of tranquillity long have we parted, 

My hopes almost gone and my parents no more, 
In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted, 

And wander unknown on a far distant shore ; 
Yet how can I doubt a dear Saviour's protection 

Forgetful of gifts from His bountiful hand ! 
O let me with patience receive His correction, 

And think of the Bible that lay on the stand ; 
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible, 

The family Bible that lay on the stand." 

Among the prime favourite hymns at Fairhope 
were the time-tested '' Rock of Ages," " Jesus, 
Lover of My Soul," *' Am I a Soldier of the 
Cross," " How Firm a Foundation," " Jesus, I 
My Cross Have Taken," and '' One Sweetly Sol- 
emn Thought." '' Beautiful Valley of Eden " and 
" He Leadeth Me, O Blessed Thought " were also 
much beloved, and often sung at the morning ser- 
vice. The latter hymn was Jacob Boardman's fa- 
vourite ; he sang it with a spiritual fervour that was 
contagious and especially so when the second 
stanza was reached. 

" Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom, 
Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom. 
By waters still, o'er troubled sea. 
Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me." 

Another hymn that was popular in my boyhood 
days I have not heard for a score of years. It is a 



62 FAIRHOPE 

pilgrim hymn and our modern church life does not 
take kindly to the '' I am a Pilgrim, I am a 
Stranger," idea. On the whole, even church people 
are pretty well established in this present world; 
and tolerably well satisfied with the life that now 
is. The first stanza and chorus of the hymn I have 
in mind has to do almost altogether with the Yon- 
der, and only a little with the Here : 

** Here we are but straying pilgrims, 
Here our path is often dim, 
But to cheer us on our journey 
Still we sing this wayside hymn. 

Chorus: " Yonder over the rolling water, 
Where the shining mansions rise, 
Soon will be our home forever, 
And the smile of the Blessed Giver 
Gladdens all our longing eyes/* 

There were four stanzas to this hymn. We sang 
them all without fail, and after each stanza the 
chorus. It was the chorus that the people liked 
especially for it was sung to a tune which gave a 
sort of vocal description of a rolling river, and at 
the time of a protracted meeting — when the in- 
terest was marked — it seemed to me that the 
whole congregation swayed to and fro in uncon- 
scious imitation of the surge of great waves on 
storm-tossed waters. 

In the early eighties, Fairhope passed from the 
era of congregational singing led by one of our 



SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 63 

musical brethren to a mixed choir of some six or 
ten voices. For many years this choir rendered 
splendid service. There were so many good voices 
in it and they blended so admirably, that it was 
a positive delight to listen to their singing of the 
great old hymns. The congregation did not permit 
them to do all the singing, but joined heartily and 
melodiously in the worship of sacred song. 

The number of good singing voices in Fairhope 
has been unusually large; a fact that was often 
commented upon by visitors from the city or 
nearby churches. Some of our women had culti- 
vated voices, like Miss Clara Menifee whose rich 
contralto fell sweet and true upon the ear. Sadie 
Van Pelt possessed a high, clear soprano, and for 
a decade her sweet tones came like a benediction 
upon the sorrowing hearts who gathered in Fair- 
hope meeting-house to pay the last tribute to their 
blessed dead. Latterly, Lucy Patton with a voice 
similar in sweetness and purity, has succeeded her 
in that gracious , ministry to the bereft. Major 
Menifee's good bass contributed each Lord's day 
to the worship; and Carter Goodpasture's high 
tenor was truer than some of his stories of famous 
horse races and the winning of fabulous purses. 
The Van Gorder family perhaps more than any 
other, enriched our services in a musical way. 
Every member of the family could sing and the 
girls were accomplished musicians. All in all, it 
occurs to me that our church has been signally 
blessed through the years in a membership able to 



64 FAIRHOPE 

raise their voices to God in the worship of spir- 
itual songs. 

Yet, there have been times when our singing 
was far from satisfactory; and like all churches, 
Fairhope has had its experiences with persons who 
believed themselves called of the Lord to exercise 
the gift of song, but alas! were sadly deluded. 
Such a one was Tobe McQuoid, who for many 
years mildly terrorised every volunteer choir in 
our community by attaching himself to it on every 
possible occasion. Tobe was a member of a re- 
ligious body that had few communicants in our 
neighbourhood, but he invariably contributed his 
might to the singing wherever he worshipped. If 
there was a choir he made a bee-line for it, no 
matter how late his arrival at the church. If there 
were no choir he took as conspicuous a seat as he 
could possibly find in the front of the meeting- 
house. Tobe was a singularly ugly man. One of 
his eyes was badly cast, and the pupil prone to roll 
upward until only half of it was in sight, while the 
other half concealed itself behind the fluttering lid. 
Then, too, his false teeth were poorly fitted and 
given to weird displacements during Tobe's vocal 
gymnastics. It was scarcely an edifying sight to 
watch McQuoid — ardent singer that he was — 
as he quite forgot himself in the singing of some 
familiar hymn. His bad eye — as if bidding fare- 
well to earthly scenes — would take its upward 
turn; while at the same time his teeth shifted about 
uneasily, threatening to leap from his capacious 



SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 65 

mouth. Still, one can get used to most anything 
and the time came when we accustomed ourselves 
at Fairhope — as did other congregations in the 
community — to Tobe McQuoid in the choir or 
on the front seat, singing with might and main. 
Tobe was not a bad sort of man and hundreds went 
to his funeral. The minister who conducted the 
service had known McQuoid for many years ; and 
I think in his selection for the Scripture lesson 
that day he showed rare powers of discernment. 
He read from the Revised Version the entire third 
chapter of Philippians which contains the noble 
passage, 

*' For our citizenship is in heaven; whence also 
we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ who 
shall fashion anew the body of our humiliation, 
that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, 
according to the working whereby he is able even 
to subject all things unto himself." 

Another thorn In our flesh was Virgil Hornsey, 
a member of Fairhope who reckoned himself to be 
a singer with a versatile voice, which he certainly 
was not. Virgil was an Individualist pure and sim- 
ple when it came to singing hymns. He scorned to 
do any kind of vocal team work and was wont to 
be either far ahead or a considerable distance be- 
hind the choir and congregation. Virgil loved to 
draw out the verses interminably and accompanied 
the turns and twisting with a nasal twang that 
was nerve wracking. If the hymn was '' How Firm 
a Foundation," Virgil would be In his glory for 



66 FAIRHOPE 

there is a tune that admits of infinite dragging. 
About the time the congregation reached the top 
of the hill with '' What more can he say than to you 
he has said/' Virgil would be at the foot with 
" His excellent word; " and as the others started 
down the slope with " You who unto Jesus have 
fled," Virgil would reach the top of the hill and 
his loud nasal notes would twang out " have laid." 
Fortunately, Virgil was easily winded and perforce 
had to drop out after a vain and vociferous effort 
to sing every selection to the end. Virgil — and 
others like him — were not strangers to us; and 
yet Fairhope had, I believe, fewer annoyances of 
this kind to mar the singing than the average 
church. We had a gracious number of sweet sing- 
ers in Israel and the memory of their voices raised 
in praise to God is altogether refreshing. 

On the whole, I believe that the singing in our 
American churches is not so general, nor so good 
as it once was. The city churches depend largely 
on quartettes and chorus-choirs, while the singing 
in the average country church is far from rever- 
ent. It will be a notable day for the rural church 
when it restores the worship of God in congrega- 
tional singing. I praise the heavenly Father that 
through so many years it was given me to enjoy 
such full-voiced, congregational singing as filled 
Fairhope meeting-house, and swelling in volume 
and harmony, was wafted to the Father's throne 
on high. And once again, before I set out upon 
the Great Adventure, I should like to hear as in 



SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 67 

the old days, our rural church raise in tuneful mel- 
ody the praiseful hymn : 

" O, Thou Fount of every blessing, 
Tune my heart to sing thy grace : 
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, 
Call for songs of loudest praise. 
Teach me some melodious sonnet, 
Sung by flaming tongues above; 
Praise the Mount, Fm fixed upon it, 
Mount of Thy redeeming love." 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 

For many years Fairhope has enjoyed in one way 
or another the ministry of student preachers. The 
proximity of our theological seminary — less than 
one hundred miles distant ^ — has of course made 
this kind of ministry of easy access when a regu- 
larly settled minister was not obtainable. Some of 
these young men ministered to us only as supplies; 
others began their ministries while still in college 
and later settled with us for a greater or lesser 
period. Still again, we were served for brief pe- 
riods by ministers who for the entire time of their 
service were residents at Lexington and matricu- 
lates in the college. Some of the most distinguished 
ministers in our communion — men now occupying 
metropolitan pulpits as well as editorial and pro- 
fessorial chairs — got their early ministerial train- 
ing at Fairhope. Indeed, Major Menifee used to 
boast that Fairhope was a training school for most 
of our big preachers. There certainly was truth 
in part of the Major's comment at least; for fol- 
lowing the period that gave us such men as James 
Cowell and Richard Marvin, there came another 
period when the young minister used the rural 
church simply as a stepping stone to a city charge. 
Such a thing as settling down for a five or ten 
year's ministry with a church even as strong and 
desirable as Fairhope probably never entered the 
minds of our young preachers since the middle 
nineties. Nor did it enter our minds either. We 

71 



72 FAIRHOPE 

accepted it as a matter of course that the bright, 
young ministers would leave us as soon as a desir- 
able church should call them. And because of such 
frequent change in ministers, Fairhope began to 
suffer a slow but sure decline. Only our strength, 
both numerically and financially, preserved us from 
the quicker decline of less fortunate country con- 
gregations. 

Fairhope is rich in the traditions of student min- 
isters who have won conspicuous success in the 
larger circles of our communion. The minister 
of a noted church in the East, a man signally 
honoured by a great Eastern university, preached 
his first — and at that time his only — missionary 
sermon in Fairhope meeting-house, and thereby 
hangs a tale. This young preacher was sent into 
our county by the Home Missionary Society to de- 
liver a missionary sermon at three of our churches 
on the same day. He was to preach for us at Fair- 
hope in the morning, in the afternoon at Point 
Pleasant six miles eastward, and that night at Flor- 
ence, some four or five miles in another direction. 
The young man boldly accepted the appointment, 
determined to make one missionary sermon serve 
for all three places. In the morning he spoke for 
us much to our profit and pleasure. On the front 
seat sat old Dr. Mcintosh, one of Florence's ven- 
erable communicants who by his patriarchal beard, 
his fine head, and expansive brow, always attracted 
the attention of visitors. Immediately after the 
morning service the young minister was taken In 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 73 

charge by a member of Point Pleasant's congrega- 
tion who entertained him for dinner, and got him 
to the church just in time to fill his appointment. 
Going into the pulpit the young man was dismayed 
to see sitting on a front seat the same benignant 
looking patriarch who had heard him with such 
apparent interest that morning. Nonplussed not a 
little, he went ahead and repeated the sermon of 
the morning with apparent difficulty. At the close 
of the service he was again hurried away; this 
time by a member of the Florence congregation 
who took him to town, entertained him at supper, 
and escorted him to the church just in time to go 
into the pulpit. And lo ! complacently seated on 
the next to the front seat sat the same venerable 
man who had already listened twice to the same 
sermon. The young minister's knees smote one 
against the other when he saw him and realised 
he was to have him for auditor the third time in 
half a day. Vainly he tried to think his way 
through a new line of thought, but gave that up 
as impractical. So for the third time he started 
in on the same sermon, attempting, however, to 
rearrange his subject matter. Accordingly he in- 
troduced the sermon with the conclusion, and used 
the introductory paragraphs later. But in so re- 
arranging the order he disorganised his thought 
completely and made a most wretched failure. 
After the benediction the young man tried to do 
what I have observed nearly every preacher wants 
to do when he has preached a poor sermon — flee 



74 FAIRHOPE 

like a bird to the mountains, or anywhere else 
where the hiding is good. But escape was impos- 
sible. His host pounced upon him and marched 
him straight up to the benevolent old man, ex- 
plaining the while *' I want you to meet Dr. Mc- 
intosh. He is one of our most faithful members. 
He likes to go to church though he's deaf as a 
post. Fact is, he hasn^t heard a sermon for ten 
years! '' 

During the period of Richard Marvin's minis- 
try at Fairhope he was once assisted in a protracted 
meeting by two student preachers from Lexington. 
One of the young men conducted the singing, the 
other did the preaching. They were likable young 
fellows, very much in earnest, and thoroughly in 
love with their calling. Haggard, the student who 
did the preaching, lacked any sense of humour and 
therefore began his ministerial career handicapped 
to that extent. For of all men, it occurs to me the 
minister in particular has need of a keen sense of 
the ridiculous. At the time of this protracted 
meeting there were two women in Fairhope church 
who were not on good terms, by name : Mrs. Susan 
Wingate and Mrs. John Sam Moller. They were 
good women, too, despite eccentricities which were 
marked in both cases. 

Mrs. Wingate spoke with a decided lisp and 
very rapidly. Mrs. Moller was a German and 
spoke English brokenly. On the first Saturday aft- 
ernoon of this meeting the regular preaching ser- 
vice was preceded by an experience meeting. This 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 75 

kind of a meeting at Fairhope was always informal 
and consisted of quotations of Scriptures, brief 
prayers, and occasional testimonies that were 
largely of a personal nature. That day Mrs. Mol- 
ler took advantage of the opportunity afforded 
and rose to her feet bent on airing her grievance 
against Mrs. Wingate. Young Haggard was in 
charge of the service, although Marvin was pres- 
ent and, also, the young brother who led the sing- 
ing. 

Mrs. MoUer was excited and her speech was 
rapid and thick. '' Brothers and sisters," she ex- 
claimed, '' chust look at Sister Wingate. She iss 
a proudt, stuck up and haughty woman. She 
shouldt already be turndt outdt of der church until 
she iss humpled to her knees. She vill efer take 
a frondt seat, avay up in der Amen Corner. She 
shouldt be made to sit in der back part of der 
meetin'-house. I tell you, she iss proud as Lu- 
cifer.'' 

Haggard, solemn as an owl, listened to Mrs. 
Moller's accusations, but failed to get their drift; 
and as she sat down much frustrated he said, 
'' Thank the Lord for those words." 

Then Susan Wingate got up, her slim body trem- 
bling like an aspen leaf and tears streaming 
down her face. *' Brothers and Thisthers, you 
have all heard the tharge Thister MoUer hasth 
brought againsth me. I am ath innocent ath a new 
born babe. Nothing in my handsth I bring, thimply 
to thy crossth I cling. I — " 



76 FAIRHOPE 

But Susan Wingate could go no further; she sat 
down and buried her face in her hands, her narrow 
shoulders heaving with emotion. Haggard sur- 
veyed her with a sort of sanctimonious approval, 
after which he pronounced in measured words the 
benediction, ** Praise the Lord for that testimony. 
Sister. You have wrought well." 

By this time most of the worshippers who had 
sensed the situation from the first, were on the 
point of explosion, so Richard Marvin got up and 
said, '* The young brother here will lead us in a 
hymn.'' 

Whereupon Ellis, who was as overflowing with 
a sense of humour as his colleague was devoid of it, 
announced in unsteady tones, " Let us all sing 
' Blest be the Tie that Binds.' " And they did. 

Fairhope was generous to her student preachers 
— to all her ministers, in fact. And I think it was 
freely acknowledged at the Seminary that Fair- 
hope was the most desirable country field in the 
State, either for supply or for regular work. We 
always paid our student preachers well, and that 
is more than some congregations did, 

A ministerial student once referred to the gen- 
erosity of Fairhope and contrasted it with another 
church in a good-sized town where he had supplied 
one Sunday. This young man was working his 
own way by hard knocks. He kept himself in col- 
lege only by practising rigid economy and by turn- 
ing every honest penny possible. When he was in- 
vited to supply the pulpit of a rather well-known 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 77 

church in a town at least one hundred miles from 
Lexington, he fancied he could make as much as 
ten dollars clear. He was entertained in the com- 
fortable home of an elder of the church who was 
also the treasurer. Monday morning after break- 
fast his host asked him how much his expenses had 
been. The student answered that six dollars would 
just about cover his expenses. The elder nodded 
his head and proceeded to take a buckskin bag out 
of his desk drawer. He opened a bag which was 
fairly stuffed with bills and loose change. Separat- 
ing slowly and painstakingly the one dollar bills 
from the roll, he smoothed them out carefully — 
well nigh reverently — one at a time upon his knee 
until he counted six. Then he pulled the draw- 
strings of the bag together and handed the minis- 
ter the six bills with this oracular comment, '' The 
experience, my brother, ought to be worth twenty- 
five more." 

As a matter of fact, the young fellow was out 
nearly a dollar in actual cash; and as he expressed 
it, '' The wear and tear on my clothing, to boot." 

Another young man preached for us a year — a 
self-made stripling who also had to watch his cor- 
ners in order to get through his college course. He 
wore celluloid collars when travelling, to reduce his 
laundry bills. He wore spotless linen in the pulpit 
and upon other occasions that required careful at- 
tire; but invariably through the week days or on 
'the train, he wore the celluloid collars. One of 
these collars was once a bad actor in a rather try- 



78 FAIRHOPE 

ing experience in Fairhope neighbourhood. He 
was called from Lexington to conduct the funeral 
of a little girl whose father had taken kindly 
to this minister though he, himself, was not a mem- 
ber at Fairhope. The young minister came wear- 
ing a celluloid collar which he replaced with a 
linen one, making very quick change in an upstairs 
room. Just before going down for the service he 
wrapped the collar tightly in a newspaper and put 
it in a little hand valise along with some books 
and other belongings. This valise he took down- 
stairs and set it in the corner of the room where 
he was to conduct the service. Just as he was 
ready to begin and had already opened his Bible, 
he happened to recall having left in the valise the 
volume which contained a poem he intended to 
read. The room was filled with people who 
watched curiously the minister when he walked 
over to his valise and opened it. As he reached for 
the book lo! that collar which he had wrapped 
up tightly in the newspaper suddenly let go and 
like a living thing leaped out of the valise, and 
rolling out on the floor made two complete circuits 
of the open space where the people were not 
standing and came at last to a stop in the very cen- 
tre of the room, and lay there as though resting 
from the exertion of cycling about so gaily. Now 
the incident was much more ludicrous to see than 
it is to tell; the sight of that collar leaping out 
of the valise, twice circling that room, and coming 
to a stop in the centre of the floor, was hard on the 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 79 

young fellow's nerves. But he met the situation 
admirably. He captured the collar, put it back in 
the valise, shut it up safely, and went on with the 
services as if such a freakish incident was of daily 
occurrence. 

During one of several interims when we were 
without a regular minister, a student preached a 
trial sermon that impressed us favourably. He was 
earnest, at ease, and the subject matter of his 
sermon was especially good. That afternoon the 
elders met at Boardman's to consider calling the 
young man. Sitting in the shade of the big elm 
trees, they discussed the young preacher. On the 
whole, they were decidedly favourable to extending 
the student a call and had practically so decided 
when Giles Shockley rode up on his sorrel mare. 
He dismounted, hitched his horse, flung a curt 
'* Howdy, brethren," at the little group, and at 
once addressed Boardman. 

'' I'd like to see your copy of The Living Pulpit; 
I loaned mine to Lee Roberts over at South Fork 
and he still has it." 

Boardman went into the house and came out 
with the volume which is a collection of some 
twenty-eight sermons by our eminent preachers, 
and was published in the sixties. Shockley took the 
book, turned rapidly several pages, found the place 
he was looking for, glanced at a paragraph or two, 
and handed the open volume to Boardman. 

'' There, sir," and Giles pointed a long, bony 
finger at the open pages. " There, sir, is the ser- 



8o FAIRHOPE 

mon we heard in Fairhope meetin'-house this 
mornin'. I thought I knew where he got it, but I 
wanted to make sure." 

Giles was right. There was the sermon almost 
word for word as Fairhope people had heard it 
that morning. Boardman passed the book to Ma- 
jor Menifee who read it out loud to the little 
company on the lawn, and when he had finished 
our elders were unanimous in the opinion that Fair- 
hope could get along without the services of that 
particular student. 

The sermon that evening was not nearly so able 
as the morning one, which fact led Giles to observe 
sagely, '' That effort, I reckon, was his own." 

The young fellow was so greatly disappointed 
in his failure to receive the call that on his return 
to Lexington he wrote asking Jacob Boardman 
the reason. Boardman, who overflowed with the 
milk of human kindness, possessed also a fine sense 
of justice, and his answer was but a single line: 
'' The reason why you failed to receive a call to 
Fairhope is ^ Living Pulpit ' pages 327-338. 

And that answer, I fancy, was sufficient. 

It was a student preacher who delivered the 
most talked of funeral sermon ever preached in 
our county. He was a very young man whose ex- 
perience was meagre, but he possessed powers of 
initiative that were considerable. This incident 
had for its setting not Fairhope, but one of our 
congregations in the southern part of the county. 
That church — South Fork by name — was min- 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 8i 

istered to by a student preacher who being ill sent 
as supply his room mate. When this student got 
off the train at a town on the eastern border of the 
county, he was told of the sudden death of a prom- 
inent member of South Fork Church, and that he 
would be expected to conduct the funeral service 
on Sunday afternoon. The man was a prominent 
farmer, a well-to-do man with wide acquaintance. 
All funeral services In our county are largely at- 
tended and Sunday funerals in particular. On this 
occasion the church was crowded. There were a 
dozen or so Fairhope people present: Carter, 
Goodpasture, Giles Shockley, Major Menifee, and 
my father, among others. The young preacher had 
a great occasion and he proposed to use it to the 
fullest. 

It was a good sermon and wisely so, for In our 
section a failure at a funeral Is much more serious 
than at a regular service. It was a good sermon, 
but like the proverbial cow that gave the big bucket 
of milk and then kicked It over, this minister 
spoiled It In the end. It happened that this farmer 
had been married before; and this fact of his 
first wife's death, together with other incidents of 
his career, had of course been told to the preacher. 
Just at the close of the sermon the young minister 
gazed compassionately upon the widow sitting with 
the children and other mourners on the front seat; 
and to the amazement of all his hearers, and the 
poorly concealed amusement of the Irreverent, he 
commiserated, " You weep and mourn to-day, for 



82 ' FAIRHOPE 

yours is a heavy loss. But let us rejoice for this 
man's sake. His is all gain: he is with his first 
wife nowT 

I don't think the young minister meant to put 
it that way but he did. And having said it he was 
wise enough not to attempt a revision. To this day 
no new minister is permitted to come into our 
county without being regaled with the account of 
this incident. For weeks after, it occasioned com- 
ment far and wide. The young man who made this 
unfortunate statement now occupies a rather con- 
spicuous and important pulpit, but I suppose no 
modicum of success has ever enabled hint to quite 
forget that funeral service. 

A student in his junior year at Lexington once 
conducted a protracted meeting for us which was 
more than ordinarily successful. He had a won- 
derful memory, was an interesting talker, and a 
great lover of poetry, quoting much in his sermons. 
One night he recited Mrs. Alexander's '' Moses," 
another " Tell Me Ye Winged Winds," and in a 
sermon on ^' Mother," he quoted with good effect 
all of '' Rock Me to Sleep, Mother, Rock Me to 
Sleep." Major Menifee enjoyed the young fel- 
low immensely, and the meetings were at- 
tended by large audiences. There were a num- 
ber of accessions, and a husband and wife 
transferred their membership from a neighbour- 
ing church between which and Fairhope there 
was considerable rivalry. It was while this meet- 
ing was in progress, and after the husband and wife 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 83 

had come, that George Van Gorder met Mrs. 
Jonas Ryland — a prominent member of the 
neighbouring church referred to above, a peppery 
soul, and afflicted with a high-pitched, keen, fal- 
setto voice. 

'' Have you been out to hear our evangelist? " 
pleasantly enquired George. 

Mrs. Ryland gave her head an angry toss and 
in a higher keyed tone than usual, shrilled back, 
'' No, and I ain't a-goin'. No need to. I got a 
book of poetry at home." 

Fairhope favoured good oratory. Like all 
southern people, we are susceptible to fluent speech 
and impassioned eloquence. We had for supply 
one Lord's day a student known far and wide in 
college circles for his oratory. He had won sev- 
eral medals, and when he entered the ministry he 
had no difficulty in securing a church. He was a 
gifted young fellow with a musical voice and un- 
usual ability in an oratorical way. It happened that 
at the time this young Beecher visited us the Van 
Gorders were giving a house party and he was 
entertained there. There were a half-dozen at- 
tractive girls from Covington and others from 
some of the smaller towns down the State. For 
that matter, none of the visiting young ladies was 
more attractive than the Van Gorder girls them- 
selves — Jennie and Louise ; Jennie being a belle 
in our community. This young minister was some- 
thing of a lady's man and he took to that house 
party like a starved pig to a big feed of corn. 



84 FAIRHOPE 

The young folks had a very enjoyable Saturday 
evening together; and on Sunday morning, of 
course, the entire house party went to church with 
the Van Gorders. The girls — some eight or nine 
in number — sat well up toward the front. The 
meeting had been widely advertised and the young 
preacher was feeling in fine mettle. He had evi- 
dently brought his best sermon and he became ob- 
sessed with a great desire to preach so as to leave 
an indelible impression. He spoke with grace and 
power, gradually working toward a climax that 
was striking and meant to be tender and pathetic. 
He was dwelling on the thought of the brevity of 
life — its disappointments and its withheld com- 
pletions, and was contrasting with such fragmen- 
tary experiences the fruition of hopes that heaven 
held for all who are faithful to the end. Then he 
lost himself in the very sweep of his own elo- 
quence, and instead of saying that there would be 
no vacant chairs or no broken family links in the 
Better Land, he said with tremendous fervour and 
intense feeling at the end of a long paragraph, 
*' My good people, in heaven there will be no 
broken chairs, no vacant lots, no — '' 

But the sight of those girls trying their best to 
keep their faces straight and failing utterly, to- 
gether with a realisation of what he had said, 
brought our young orator's conclusion to a most 
untimely and unrhetorical stop. I have seldom felt 
sorrier for a man. It completely collapsed him. 
He was like a drowning man who had given up all 



OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 85 

hope of rescue and was resignedly going down for 
the third and last time. The effect of the sermon 
was spoiled irrevocably. The poor fellow was so 
embarrassed that when he presided at the com- 
munion table a little later, he spilled some of the 
red wine on the snowy cloth; and if there had 
been any honourable way of his getting back to 
Lexington without facing the Van Gorders' house 
party again, I am sure he would have taken it. 

The pastorate of such a church as Fairhope was 
not without its great compensations. Some time 
ago I read an article in one of our religious jour- 
nals by a man now quite noted who as a student 
was a minister at Fairhope. He was writing about 
the country congregations and of the experiences 
of a minister in such fields. Among other things, 
he said, '' The man who goes to the ministry of a 
city church without ever having been a country 
pastor is to be pitied. His education is not com- 
plete. He IS lop-sided. He has missed something 
fine, something fragrant and beautiful, something 
that he can get nowhere else. Three years of my 
own life — three of the greatest and best and most 
fruitful years — were spent as the minister of a 
country church, for which I thank God." 

All of which leads me to believe that Fairhope 
has had a part In shaping and sweetening per- 
haps, the Kingdom of God. And even if that part 
be small, I cherish the belief that it has been emi- 
nently worth while. 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 

I SUPPOSE that every church has at least one self- 
appointed heresy hunter who scrutinises the 
preacher's sermons with painstaking care for pos- 
sible departures from the straight and narrow path 
of orthodoxy. Giles Shockley held this office in 
Fairhope church to the amusement of some of us, 
the dismay of a few, and the good natured toler- 
ance of all. 

In appearance, Giles was a little weazened man; 
about five feet four inches in height ; with a great 
shock of coarse, black hair which he wore brushed 
back from his high forehead in pompadour fash- 
ion. He was the fiercest looking little man I ever 
saw. He had a thin hatchet face, a large hooked 
nose, and little beady, black eyes that fairly bored 
a hole through any one whom he chanced to be- 
lieve was unsound in the faith. Giles was nothing 
if not sound in doctrine, and since his voice was 
all out of proportion to his body in bigness, it 
seemed to us that he was pretty nearly all sound. 
Giles possessed a really extraordinary knowledge 
of the New Testament, a copy of which he always 
carried with him — the same marked at certain 
proof-texts; a fact which Giles took much pride 
in and often put on exhibition. 

Richard Marvin, so long Fairhope's beloved 
minister — a level-headed, clear-thinking man — 
once referred in a private conversation to Giles 
Shockley as '' a hound of the Lord " and the phrase 

89 



90 FAIRHOPE 

was most appropriate. Giles could follow the 
scent of heresy as closely as a hound the hot trail 
of a fox; and in so doing Giles believed himself 
'* not slothful in business, serving the Lord." Of 
all types of preachers, he most preferred the mili- 
tant kind and a debate on a religious topic was his 
delight. Giles' favourite book of the New Testa- 
ment was Acts of the Apostles, and his favourite 
chapter was the second; the thirty-eighth verse of 
the same, his ringing challenge to all seekers after 
God: " And Peter said unto them. Repent ye, and 
be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus 
Christ unto the remission of your sins; and ye shall 
receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." 

In the evangelistic message of our ministers, 
certain '' first principles " of the Gospel were in the 
earlier days stressed in season and out of season. 
These first principles were held to be Faith, Re- 
pentance, Confession, and Baptism; and were 
sometimes spoken of as the steps by which the 
sinner came into the Kingdom. Not long ago I 
heard a minister say in a sermon at Fairhope that 
the real first principles of the Gospel are God, 
Christ, Man, Sin, and Eternal Life; and what we 
had been pleased to term first principles were for- 
sooth second principles. I do not know as to this. 
I will leave that to the theologians. But in the 
early days at Fairhope, whatever the topic of the 
preacher, he was certain to close his discourse 
with Faith, Repentance, Confession, and Baptism. 

Giles Shockley was a '* first principle " man, and 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 91 

he held tenaciously that no sermon was a Gospel 
sermon that failed to present these steps into the 
church. It was his custom to sit in a front pew 
from which vantage place he followed the words 
of the preacher with undivided attention. In a 
way, Giles was a terror to young preachers ; for if 
they misquoted a text or failed to preach the Gos- 
pel as Giles believed it, they would be sure to 
hear from him. 

One Lord's day a student-preacher from Lex- 
ington was supply at Fairhope as our regular min- 
ister was holding a meeting for a church in another 
part of the State. This supply was a conscien- 
tious, earnest, young man ; but very timid and self- 
conscious. In the course of his sermon he quoted 
several passages of Scripture and before he was 
through the first one Giles fished out his New Tes- 
tament with a flourish and turned rapidly to the 
verses the student was attempting to quote. No 
sooner was the service over than Giles rushed up 
to the young fellow and addressed him bluntly. 

'' Brother, you are in grave danger of God's 
wrath. You failed to quote God's Word correctly. 
Don't you know what Almighty God says in Rev- 
elation about those who treat His Word so shame- 
fully? Listen!" 

And Giles then and there read from his little 
Testament, in a booming voice that everybody in 
the meeting-house couldn't help but hear, '' I tes- 
tify unto every man that heareth the words of the 
prophecy of this book, if any man shall add to 



92 FAIRHOPE 

them, God shall add unto him the plagues which 
are written in this book: And if any man shall take 
away from the words of the book of this prophecy, 
God shall take away his part from the tree of 
life, and out of the holy city, which are written in 
this book." 

The young minister looked as though he were 
going to faint. He was white as a sheet, and his 
speech as he tried to reply was thick as a drunken 
man's. It was Jacob Boardman who came to his 
rescue. That dear old saint walked right up past 
Giles, brushed him and his New Testament aside ; 
and putting one arm around the student's shoul- 
ders, he seized his limp hand in his vise-like clasp 
and congratulated the young preacher warmly. 

** My brother, that was a good sermon. You 
gave us a heap to think about, enough to keep us 
busy the rest of our lives. Come home to dinner 
with me; and Giles," the old man turned to that 
hound of the Lord, '' Giles, if you'll put your book 
up and try to follow Paul's advice — not to be- 
have yourself unseemly — you can come along. 
Otherwise, not." 

And Giles went for, much as he liked to argue, 
he liked Jacob Boardman's dinners more. 

Whenever we had a preacher on trial, Giles 
was in his element as a sermon-taster. We formed 
a habit of asking Giles after a trial sermon what 
he thought of it. The Lord's day Harmon Vaughn 
preached on trial we were greatly pleased, all ex- 
cept Giles. 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 93 

"What did you think of him, Giles?'' some 
one asked after the service. 

'' He won't do," said Giles. '' He took his text 
from the Psalms. The Old Testament is the Jew's 
Bible, not the Christian's. That fellow ought to 
hire to a synagogue. He's a rabbi more than a 
Christian minister." 

However, Giles's bark was worse than his bite. 
Having had his say, Giles usually lapsed into a 
rather ostentatious resignation; always came to 
church whether or not he liked the preacher; and 
if the sermon was other than doctrinal, he sat 
through it listless-like with a bored expression on 
his face. But let the preacher grow argumentative, 
and Giles came to life and interest like a fire horse 
at the tap of the bell. 

In connection with Giles sitting in judgment on 
trial sermons, there occurred one of the most amus- 
ing incidents in Fairhope's history. We were with- 
out a regular minister, and a man had come on 
trial; a preacher, too, of some experience and no 
little ability — one known to us only by reputation. 
It was on a Lord's day in early fall. The meet- 
ing-house was crowded and Giles Shockley sat in 
his seat of the mighty, ready to approve or damn 
as the case might warrant. The time for the 
sermon came; the preacher arose and gave out as 
his text, Roman 13: 8, " Owe no man anything." 
Then, for half an hour, he preached against the 
sin of debt and especially of church members fail- 
ing to pay their just obligations. It was the first 



94 FAIRHOPE 

and last sermon on that topic I ever heard in Fair- 
hope, and a most unusual subject for a trial ser- 
mon. Some reflection, however, leads me to be- 
lieve this theme for a trial sermon was wisely 
chosen. It would have been quite impossible to 
preach such a sermon among a people the minister 
knew without a feeling that it was personal and 
meant to be such. 

Now Giles Shockley was notoriously lax about 
paying his debts. He was not dishonest exactly but 
as George Van Gorder once put it, " Giles is as 
slow about paying his debts as sorghum molasses 
in zero weather." And Carter Goodpasture in 
Beagle's store one day, happening to see a bill 
against Giles, advised Beagle to '' write Giles 
Shockley's bills on parchment so as to save sta- 
tionery." 

Imagine Giles listening critically to a sermon on 
such a subject! The preacher struck out from the 
shoulder, too, and among other things he said 
that a church member who made himself conspicu- 
ous by occupying a front seat and could and 
wouldn't pay his debts, did the cause more harm 
than an out and out infidel. Poor Giles ! The 
preacher could not have hit him harder in a ten- 
derer spot if he had known all about him. At 
first Giles' slight figure seemed to dwindle and he 
sank deep down in his pew. Then he stiffened his 
body, sat bolt upright, and with poorly simulated 
relish listened to what must have been the most 
depressing sermon he ever heard. All over the 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 95 

church the situation was sensed at once. Some of 
the irreverent folks nudged one another and 
grinned broadly. Mother and Father exchanged 
knowing glances, and as I looked at the benevolent 
face of Jacob Boardman — apparently deeply in- 
terested in the sermon — I saw the play of a 
humorous twinkle in his calm grey eyes. 

As soon as the service was over Giles made for 
the door as quickly as he could without attracting 
further attention. He tarried very little on the 
way and once outside hurried to his horse, un- 
hitched her, and swung into the saddle. Just then 
Carter Goodpasture hailed him. 

'* Say, Giles, how did you like that sermon? " 

Giles' reply was not audible, but the look he 
flung at Carter was almost profane. He gave 
his sorrel mare a dig in the flank and went clatter- 
ing off down the pike in a cloud of dust. 

We failed to secure this preacher, though It was 
not our fault. He was too high-priced. I suppose 
Giles was immensely relieved when he heard that 
we were not to have as minister a man who 
preached on the evil of debt with as much vigour 
as other ministers preached on hell. 

Only once did the mild tolerance of Falrhope 
folks for Giles' high-handed ways give place to 
well defined disciplinary measures. It all came 
about through Giles' suspicion of Harmon 
Vaughn's orthodoxy. Vaughn was the first of our 
younger ministers to give a rather wider Interpre- 
tation to the Gospel message than we had been 



96 FAIRHOPE 

accustomed to hear. Moreover, he preached much 
on the practical phases of the Christian faith and 
seldom on doctrinal topics. There was distinctly 
a new note in Vaughn's preaching; and none of the 
old militant, dogmatic sort. A favourite theme 
with Vaughn was that of Prayer, and he was the 
first minister to introduce into Fairhope's service 
the repeating of the Lord's Prayer in unison by 
the congregation. 

Giles was ill at ease from the first at this new 
order of things, and let it be known that in his 
opinion Vaughn was '^ wise above that which is 
written." At first our people paid little attention 
to these criticisms for we were used to Giles and 
had every confidence in Vaughn. Then Giles began 
to exhibit a clipping of an article Vaughn had 
written for The Christian Record. In this article 
the young preacher protested against what he 
called " an overstressing of primary principles and 
a consequent neglect of Christian conduct and de- 
velopment in the devotional.'' In one paragraph 
of the article Vaughn had used this sentence, '^ 1 
believe we might profitably keep baptism in the 
background." One Lord's day Giles read this 
clipping to a little group of our members at a 
basket-meeting given by a neighbouring church; 
and then proceeded to enlarge on Vaughn's state- 
ment on baptism, growing eloquent as he pro- 
ceeded. 

''You hear this, brethren!" he exclaimed. 
" Keep baptism in the background ! Baptism in 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 97 

the background! Wasn't Christ baptised? Didn't 
He tell us to preach the Gospel to all nations, 
baptisin' them in the name of the Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost? Why this man Vaughn may be 
one of those wolves that the Apostles said would 
come among us in the latter days." 

It was at this point that a Fairhope man inter- 
rupted Giles and advised him to put the paper in 
his pocket and attend to his own business. Giles 
mumbled something about this being his business. 
The outcome of it was that our elders — Jacob 
Boardman, Judge Patton, Clay Menifee, and my 
father — invited Giles to meet with them in a 
conference of a private nature. We never knew 
exactly what took place there; though the report 
sifted its way through the congregation that Jacob 
Boardman, speaking for the eldership, gave Giles 
some very plain and vigorous advice and then 
took his three brother-elders and Giles, also, home 
to dinner with him and the matter was a closed in- 
cident. 

Giles never went any further in his attempt to 
undermine Vaughn for heresy in the matter of 
baptism or anything else. Surprising as it may 
seem in view of his early suspicion, he actually 
warmed up to Harmon Vaughn and came to re- 
gard him affectionately. The change was not 
gradual; it was sudden, but sure. And the reason 
was a striking sermon that Vaughn preached on 
the Divinity of Christ. The argument was not 
especially new, but there was an originality of 



98 FAIRHOPE 

arrangement; and it was delivered with so much 
force and fire that Giles was captivated. From the 
hour of that sermon's delivery he became a stout 
champion of Harmon Vaughn. 

A little more than a year after Shockley's change 
toward Vaughn, the former took to his bed with 
a malady that perplexed and baffled the doctors and 
it soon became apparent that he could not get 
well. Vaughn went to see him often, read selec- 
tions from the Scriptures, and prayed with him. 
Our hound of the Lord knew the end was coming 
so found great comfort in the minister's visits. 
Yet, to the last he retained his eccentricities and 
faint traces of his heresy hunting. 

The day before his passing Vaughn was with 
him for several hours, in the course of which he 
read from the Scriptures and offered prayer at his 
bedside. Familiar with Shockley's favourite pas- 
sages the young minister opened his New Testa- 
ment and after reading the eighth chapter of 
Romans, turned to Acts and began to read the 
second chapter. Giles feebly motioned him to 
stop. 

'' Not to-day, Brother Vaughn. It^s a great 
chapter. You do well to preach from it often. But 
I wish you'd turn to Luke fifteen and read me 
that instead; and read it all — even the part about 
the prodigal's brother." 

Vaughn read — read it all — read it tenderly. 
The sick man listened attentively to the preacher's 
words. When he had finished Giles spoke, but in 



A HOUND OF THE LORD 99 

tones so weak and faint as scarcely to resemble his 
once strong voice. 

'' Thank ye, Brother Vaughn. Thank ye. 
You've been good to come and see me often. I 
didn't like ye at first. I believed ye were not true 
to the Gospel, but I'll take it back. Ye air. Your 
sermon on the Divinity of Jesus Christ proved that 
ye air. But, Brother Vaughn," — Giles' black eyes 
were fixed upon the serious face of the minister 
bent now so close to his own, — '' my advice to you 
as a dying man is to press first principles a leetle 
morey 

The next day Giles died. We gave him a large 
funeral; and forgetting his failings, remembered 
only his virtues. In Fairhope meeting-house the 
Lord's day after Giles Shockley's death, as wor- 
ship began, I glanced toward the pew the little 
man had occupied for so many years, and a lump 
came into my throat, and I saw but dimly through 
the mists his vacant place. 



A MODERN ENOCH 



A MODERN ENOCH 

Jacob Boardman was for forty-five years a mem- 
ber of Fairhope, and for thirty-seven years an 
elder. A goodlier, patienter man never lived. He 
was of Welsh descent on his father's side and his 
mother was Scotch and deeply religious. He was 
a Pennsylvanian by birth, and when a young man 
he came to northern Kentucky. By trade he was 
a wagon-maker, but he took up farming shortly 
after his arrival in Boone County and became one 
of our substantial men, rearing a large family in 
the fear and admonition of the Lord, and con- 
tributing in numerous ways to the good of the 
community. 

In appearance Jacob Boardman looked the great 
and good soul he was. In later life he resembled 
the pictures of Ralph Waldo Emerson. He was 
large of frame; a strong, vigorous man. His head 
was massive, his nose prominent and aquiline, and 
his face in a rugged way was almost classic. With 
the exception of side whiskers, '' squirrel tails " he 
called them, his face was clean shaven with a wide 
expressive mouth and strong resolute chin. His 
eyes were especially notable, being deep blue in 
colour and twinkling always with good humour 
and affection for all mankind. Save a slight palsy 
which affected his hands and made him a trifle 
unsteady on his feet, this man passed his three 
score and ten with eyes undimmed and much of his 
natural force unabated. 

103 



104 FAIRHOPE 

Jacob Boardman's life was a curious compound 
of joys and sorrows, of success and failure. Bur- 
dens that would have crushed completely a less 
resolute soul, he carried with singular and un- 
ruffled patience to the end. Twice he faced bank- 
ruptcy through the financial failure of friends 
whose promissory notes he had endorsed. In one 
instance he was saved from the utter loss of all his 
earthly possessions by the sudden death in a rail- 
way accident of the man he had befriended and 
whose life insurance policy to the amount of two- 
thirds of the debt had been made over to his bene- 
factor. In the other instance only the sale of a big 
part of his land saved him from a financial crash. 
For twenty years his faithful wife was a helpless 
invalid and his oldest son, John — just as he was 
coming into his majority — was drowned in the 
Ohio River during one of the spring floods. An- 
other son, Jerome, was left after a short and criti- 
cal illness, a helpless cripple for life; and no one 
whoever heard Jacob Boardman refer to him as 
** my afflicted son " could ever forget the exquisite 
tenderness of his voice. Then his favourite daugh- 
ter, Mary, married unwisely; and her life was 
made miserable by the scoundrel-husband who a 
little while before he abandoned her, forged the 
note of his father-in-law for a thousand dollars 
and got safely away with the money. Yet, not- 
withstanding his misfortunes, Jacob Boardman's 
life was lived joyfully in his Christian faith and 
without loss of confidence in his fellow-men. Such 



A MODERN ENOCH 105 

another optimist it has never been my good for- 
tune to know. Those eyes could see a long way 
off, past the disappointments of the present to the 
New Jerusalem God was rearing for His children. 
And a more playful, even roguish man never lived. 

Boardman was a kind 6f lay-preacher. He 
could make a very acceptable speech on most any 
Biblical topic; and occasionally when no preacher 
was available he would, if requested, conduct a 
funeral service. He could do this as well as many 
a minister and better than some I have known. In 
public prayer he was exceptionally gifted and on 
numerous occasions I have known him to lead 
a congregation to the throne of God in simple, yet 
powerful prayer. 

His unfailing charity was perhaps never more 
characteristically shown than at Len Crutcher's 
funeral. Len was one of our community's ne'er- 
do-wells, a little-account sort of man, lazy, im- 
provident, and a notorious prevaricator. But, like 
many another shiftless man, he was blessed with 
as good a wife as ever any man had. Sarah 
Crutcher was as industrious as Len was lazy, and 
for her sake we were all inclined to be more tol- 
erant of her husband's trifling ways than we would 
otherwise have been. Sarah asked Jacob to speak 
a few words and offer a prayer at Len's grave- 
side and, of course, that dear old saint promised 
to comply with her request. When it was noised 
about that Jacob Boardman was going to speak 
at Len's funeral we agreed that the old man had 



io6 FAIRHOPE 

undertaken a difficult task. A minister who was 
unacquainted with Crutcher's Hfe might have gen- 
erahsed ghtteringly and so made out well enough, 
and even if he eulogised him some we would have 
excused it on the grounds that he didn't know Len. 
But our Modern Enoch knew all about Len 
Crutcher, knew him as George Van Gorder put it 
'' to the tune of two hundred dollars/' And so 
this was the sort of man Jacob Boardman had for 
subject in Fairhope cemetery one afternoon late 
in September in the presence of nearly one hun- 
dred neighbours brought together through com- 
mingled curiosity and concern. 

With uncovered head, his grey hair fluttering 
in the soft breezes that swept across the level 
fields, the old man spoke in his straight-forward, 
whole-hearted fashion. 

'' Neighbours and friends," he said, " we have 
come to lay away all that is mortal of Len 
Crutcher, and comfort as best we can his faithful 
wife. I want to say a word or two about him to- 
day that I think ought to be said. Every man has 
at least one good point and Len had his." 

This statement caused a mild flurry among us, 
and I suppose nearly every man and woman pres- 
ent — excepting perhaps Sarah Crutcher — was 
hard driven to call up a single good point of Len's. 
The silence was intense. We were all ears. Jacob 
continued : 

" Len was a good whittler, I may say an ac- 
complished whittler; in fact, the best all-round 



A MODERN ENOCH 107 

whittler this community has ever known. I don't 
know how many elder pop-guns and willow whis- 
tles Len made for the children of this neighbour- 
hood, but I reckon a hundred at least. You all will 
recollect the Perkinses that used to live down on 
Garrison. There was a big family of 'em and they 
were as bad off as Job's turkey. Poor little chaps ! 
One day I happened to pass by that place and what 
should I see but the whole passel gathered about 
Len Crutcher who was a-whittlin' 'em out wind- 
mills as fast as he could make the shavin's fly. 
Many a little shaver's had a heap of fun all because 
Len Crutcher whittled him out a toy, and I'm be- 
lievin' the good Lord'U not forget even a willow 
whistle whittled out for the least of His children. 
Brethren, let us pray." 

As I bowed my head I saw Major Menifee jab- 
bing his handkerchief into his eyes, and then some- 
how — well, like the blind man of Bethsaida, I 
saw men as trees. 

Many men cease to grow in mind, especially in 
their religious views as they grow older. But not 
so with Jacob Boardman. He grew ampler in 
mind and soul as the years came and went. Unlike 
the figure on the coin, he looked forward always. 
One Lord's day a number of us were at the Board- 
mans for dinner, Giles Shockley among others. 
The conversation turned to some of the newer 
methods in Sunday School work. Giles — always 
a stickler for the old paths — claimed to be too 
old to learn new ways and in justification of his 



io8 FAIRHOPE 

views quoted the familiar adage, " You can't teach 
an old dog new tricks." 

*' No, Giles,'' Boardman rejoined, his eyes 
twinkling merrily, '' you can't, that's a fact. But 
the reason you can't is not because the dog's old, 
mind you; but because he knows a lot of old tricks 
and is too lazy to learn any new ones." 

Our modern Enoch was a generous man in his 
gifts, and particularly so with his church. Long 
before the tithe was taught from the pulpit, Jacob 
Boardman gave more than that proportion of his 
income to the Lord's work. He was the most 
liberal member at Fairhope though by no means 
the wealthiest. He was one of the few men I have 
known who would make a note at the bank in order 
to pay a church pledge or make a gift for for- 
eign missions. He was jealous for the dignity and 
credit of the church in financial affairs. I once 
heard him make a plea in Fairhope meeting-house 
for more liberal subscriptions in which he said, 
*' We talk about being as poor as a church mouse. 
Why should a church mouse be poorer than any 
other mouse? For my part, I believe a church 
mouse ought to be the fattest, sleekest-looking 
mouse in the land and if we all did our bounden 
duty that proverb — or whatever you call it — 
' poor as a church mouse ' — would die a natural 
death." 

As the old man thus spoke he beamed benignly. 
Carter Goodpasture, who was sitting next to me, 
leaned over and whispered in my ear, '' Davy, no 



A MODERN ENOCH 109 

man ever was as good as Jacob Boardman looks." 
Jacob Boardman never turned from his door a 
seeker for food or lodging no matter how un- 
toward the seeker's appearance or condition. His 
reason for holding himself rigidly to this rule was 
due to his generous spirit of hospitality; but more 
to an experience of his early manhood while trav- 
elling in the West. He once found himself in a 
sparsely settled portion of Kansas with night com- 
ing on and no signs of a habitation of any sort in 
sight. He was on horseback and in a country en- 
tirely new to him. About midnight he came upon 
a little sod house where he was cordially received 
by the lone occupant — a melancholy visaged man 
who saw that his nocturnal guest was made com- 
fortable. In the morning Boardman attempted to 
pay for his lodging but his host would accept noth- 
ing save the promise that Boardman would never 
turn away a stranger from his own door. That 
promise our Modern Enoch faithfully made and 
kept, and it was as if by some mysterious process 
that that promise had been communicated to every 
member of the tramping fraternity. All sorts of 
men: pedlars, agents, and occasionally a woman 
itinerant, seemed instinctively to turn aside when 
they came to Boardman's house by the side of the 
road. Moreover, for a radius of some five or six 
miles in every direction, various families helped to 
supply the Boardman home with guests of this 
kind by informing enquirers for lodging that Jacob 
Boardman never turned any one away. 



no FAIRHOPE 

Some of these guests that fate sent the Board- 
mans were to say the least annoying and a few of 
them paid their host for his kindnesses in strange 
ways. One night there stopped a pilgrim of the 
pike who claimed to be some sort of Holiness 
preacher. On going to his room this devout itin- 
erant prayed so loud and long that he disturbed 
the entire household. But before daybreak he de- 
parted with a package of a half-dozen new shirts 
which his host had purchased two days before in 
Cincinnati. 

Another whilesome guest — a sort of castaway, 
weather-beaten, and eccentric — was so pleased 
with his entertainment that he insisted on settling 
down there for the rest of his days and was finally 
removed to the county Infirmary with some diffi- 
culty. 

Finally in order to protect his family, but still 
keep his promise, Boardman built a one-room 
structure in the yard back of his house, furnished 
it simply but comfortably, and lodged his Itiner- 
ant guests there. It was In connection with this 
practice to turn no one away from his door that 
a few of us made the old gentleman a victim of 
a practical joke. 

Carter Goodpasture and George Van Gorder 
had been spending the day with us and the former 
was the originator of a plan to test out the Board- 
man hospitality to the fullest. My sister Alice, who 
had taken part In private theatricals and who had 



A MODERN ENOCH in 

some histrionic ability, was the star performer. 
By the help of a grey wig, a rakish old bonnet, a 
plaid shawl, a black skirt soiled and frayed around 
the edges, she looked very much like some poor 
outcast woman. To complete her disguise she 
rubbed a small amount of soot over her cheeks and 
on this background painted at irregular intervals 
ugly splotches of red, giving them special prom- 
inence on her chin and forehead. Over her dark 
and speckled countenance she fastened a veil which 
once had been black but was then green with age. 
Bending nearly double and leaning on a gnarled 
staff, it was a veritable scare crow that made its 
way up to the Boardmans' front door in the twi- 
light of a November day. We had taken Mrs. 
Boardman into the secret and her interest in the 
hoax was keen. Alice knocked sharply and when 
Jacob opened the door she asked in a tremulous 
voice, *' Good sir, may I have lodging for the 
night?" 

The old man peered at her curiously. The dis- 
guise was perfect. She was, indeed, a very repel- 
lent old hag. Jacob threw open the door, invited 
her inside, and bade her be seated. She explained 
that she was from over the river on her way to 
visit her daughter at Petersburg; but was ill, could 
go no farther, and was seeking lodging for the 
night. 

*' Sir," she said, simulating the high, tremulous 
voice of an old and feeble woman, " I'm afeard 



112 FAIRHOPE 

Tm goin' to be sick. Fm afeard IVe got some- 
thin' catchin.' Do you know small-pox when you 
sees it? " 

Just then she raised her veil disclosing those 
terrible splotches against the background of what 
looked like a very dirty skin. For once in his life 
the old man seemed nonplussed. He got up from 
his chair plainly agitated ; but before he could make 
any reply Alice broke into peals of laughter, threw 
off her bonnet, veil and shawl; while the half- 
dozen conspirators who had remained on the out- 
side filed Into the room and mingled their laughter 
with the rest. No one enjoyed the joke more than 
Jacob Boardman. He laughed long and heartily. 
By-and-bye, Carter Goodpasture ventured the re- 
mark, *' Boardman, I reckon you'd keep the devil 
himself, if he asked for lodging! " 

The old man's eyes twinkled and he chuckled, 
'' Well, Carter, I reckon I've entertained the old 
Harry unawares several times." 

Jacob's optimism was of a kind that made cheer- 
fulness contagious. For many years he always in- 
corporated one sentence in his prayers at Fairhope 
meeting-house. '' Lord," he would pray, '' we 
thank Thee for this beautiful day." Sunshine or 
storm, rain or snow, stifling heat or bitter cold, it 
was all the same to that serene soul, it was a 
*' beautiful day." 

One midsummer when the corn was in tassel and 
the prospect for a big yield never better, a terrific 
hail storm swept our community. It wrought havoc 



A MODERN ENOCH 113 

on all sides, but nowhere more seriously than in 
a forty acre field of flourishing corn belonging to 
him. It cut the corn into ribbons, levelled most of 
the stalks with the ground, practically ruining the 
crop. The storm came on Saturday, and the fol- 
lowing Lord's day Jacob was in his place at church. 
At the communion table he offered thanks for the 
loaf and he prefaced his prayer with a sentence 
which led us to wonder if a more trustful soul ever 
breathed. 

" Lord," he prayed, " we thank Thee for the 
sunshine, the rain, and the haiV There was not 
the slightest quaver to his voice when he pro- 
nounced the word '' hail," and his countenance was 
as free from scowl or frown as is the month of 
July in northern Kentucky from a killing frost. 

Jacob Boardman's level-headedness and fine 
Christian spirit were never seen to better advan- 
tage than on an occasion when the matter of dis- 
ciplining some of Fairhope's young people for 
dancing was an issue. To-day I do not know of 
any church — either city or rural — which disci- 
plines its young people for indulgence in popular 
amusements; but twenty-five years ago it was not 
an unusual thing for some of our rural churches 
to take such action. One of our neighbouring 
churches withdrew membership from three or four 
young people from one family for dancing, and yet 
permitted the older members of that family to re- 
tain their standing in the church although they 
played cards. The act of this congregation, so in- 



114 FAIRHOPE 

consistent and unwise, was productive of much ill- 
feeling and in the end resulted in the entire family 
leaving that church; the older people putting their 
membership with another congregation, and the 
young people taking no further interest in the 
church. So far as the most of us were able to see, 
the act of this neighbouring church was productive 
of far more harm than good. 

Only once did popular amusements become an 
Issue at Fairhope, and how Jacob Boardman met 
it is an interesting episode in the annals of our 
congregation. In the early nineties several of our 
young people — at least two from the families of 
Fairhope's elders — attended dancing parties, 
some of them participating. The dances for the 
most part were the old-fashioned kind with the 
Virginia Reel as a special favourite. The matter 
came to be talked about a great deal and called 
forth considerable criticism from some of our mem- 
bers. The continual agitation brought the matter 
at last before a called meeting of Fairhope's board 
of officers which was composed of the elders and 
the deacons. Major Menifee presided and after 
calling on Jacob Boardman for prayer, the Major 
stated briefly the object of the meeting, and asked 
for a free expression of opinion from those pres- 
ent. Giles Shockley was very naturally present at 
this meeting and was in favour of disciplining the 
young people. He took the position that the Scrip- 
tures clearly Indicated such procedure, that Paul 
had advised the churches to withdraw from every 



A MODERN ENOCH 115 

one who walked disorderly, and that in his opinion 
dancing was disorderly to a shameful degree. 

Franklin Van Pelt — one of our substantial 
members — a man with a strain of severity in his 
make-up — was also of the opinion that the young 
people should be dealt with summarily. He held 
that church membership ought to mean something : 
that such amusements were worldly, and that 
the church and the world were at enmity. In fact, 
Van Pelt went so far as to move that the guilty 
parties be suspended for six months and restored 
to full membership only on their full promise not 
to have any part in worldly amusements. 

It was at this juncture that Jacob Boardman got 
up. The old man spoke slowly, very kindly, yet 
emphatically. He said that he had never danced, 
didn't know one card from another, and with the 
exception of seeing Joe Jefferson in '' Rip Van 
Winkle " he had never been to the theatre In his 
life. But he was most decidedly opposed to any 
action on the part of the church toward suspend- 
ing the young people from church for dancing or 
any other popular amusement. He held that the 
Scripture as cited by Giles Shockley did not apply 
to the case in hand; that the spirit of Christ was 
all the other way; that the young people needed 
In those tender years of their lives the help of the 
church, not its opposition; and that no more un- 
Christlike thing could be done than for a church 
of Christ to withdraw fellowship from the young 
lives committed to its love and care. As he ap- 



ii6 FAIRHOPE 

preached the conclusion, the old man warmed up. 

*' Brethren," he admonished, '^ if we are going 
to discipline our members in this way let's start 
with the old members — not the young. And first 
of all we might start with us elders. We are none 
too good, and there is not one of us that doesn't 
have some besetting sin. For example, now there 
is Major Menifee — one of the grandest men we 
have. Yet, the Major takes his toddy, we all know 
that; and while I don't suppose he was ever in- 
toxicated in his life, yet the Major knows as well 
as I do that that is a bad example for the young. 

*' Then there is Judge Patton," he continued. 
'' The Judge does like horse flesh powerfully well, 
and as we all know he races some of his own 
horses. And I suppose there isn't anything the 
Judge takes more pride in than the prizes he has 
pulled down at the County Fairs with that speedy 
little mare of his, Jenny Lind. Probably the Judge 
never gambled on a horse of his own or any other; 
but horse racing — even of a genteel sort — is not 
the best business for an elder of a church. No- 
body knows that better than the Judge, himself. 

'' Then, here is my faithful neighbour, David," 
he said, at the same time putting his hand affec- 
tionately on my father's shoulder. " David's the 
best neighbour in the world, and one of the best 
citizens we ever had in this county. But David's 
not over enthusiastic about foreign missions, and 
if he's ever made a decent gift for the heathen 
abroad Pve never heard of it. 



A MODERN ENOCH 117 

*' And as for myself, I — " Every man there 
unconsciously bent forward, curious to learn what 
Jacob Boardman's besetting sin was. " And I,'' 
confessed the old man, *' why, I chew tobacco, and 
even an Arkansas razor-back hog won't do that! " 

That meeting adjourned without any action in 
disciplining a half-dozen of our young people. But 
I happen to know that Jacob Boardman saw and 
talked with each one of those young folks. What 
he said to all of them I do not know, but what he 
said to one I remember to this present hour and 
I do not think I shall ever forget it. God be 
praised for such a man! 

Jacob Boardman's passing was as his stay in this 
world: patient, unafraid, with something of the 
playful spirit which had made him so beloved 
among us. His last word — if one could call it a 
word — was characteristic of the man. His illness 
was of short duration and from the first critical in 
the extreme. His last day on earth he lay quiet and 
in a stupor, apparently suffering not the slightest 
pain. Toward evening he seemed to be just alive 
and the members of the family were about his bed. 
He lay with his eyes closed, his breathing so 
gentle as to be scarcely observable. Anxiously the 
grief-stricken family bent over him, seeking ea- 
gerly for the slightest evidences of life. He opened 
wide his eyes and for a single second seemed 
dazed and unable to comprehend. Then hearty 
recognition came into those steady blue eyes and 
pursing his lips as if playing '' hide and seek " with 



ii8 FAIRHOPE 

a little child, he said very gently and distinctly 
*' Booh! " Then observing the astonishment writ- 
ten large on the faces of his loved ones, the fine 
old countenance relaxed and a most beautiful smile 
spread over the familiar features, the weary eyes 
closed never to open again on the scenes of time 
and change. 

Thus died Jacob Boardman, died as he had 
lived. For all of his life he had been saying 
** Booh " to the burdens and sorrows and disap- 
pointments that had so often confronted him; and 
of all the men and women I have known, no one 
was so well prepared to say '' Booh," to death as 
our Modern Enoch. 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 

Major H. Clay Menifee, the most cultured and 
polished of Fairhope's men, still abides in the flesh 
— the sole survivor of a group of men who were 
prominent figures in our community forty years 
ago. He was a student of our famous old college 
referred to elsewhere in these annals, but in his 
second year the Civil War broke out and this dash- 
ing nineteen year old youth threw himself heart 
and soul into the cause of the Southland. He 
fought all through the bloody conflict; was 
wounded at the battle of Shiloh; and when the war 
closed he came out a major, though not yet twen- 
ty-four years old. 

The Menifees have long resided in northern 
Kentucky and Oak Knoll — their line old home- 
stead — Is about the only house left showing the 
style of architecture which prevailed in the further 
south during the ante-bellum days. Judge Stan- 
hope Menifee, the Major's father, died when I 
was a small boy and I have only a hazy memory of 
how he looked; but I have heard my father and 
mother as well as the Major, talk a great deal 
about him. 

Judge Menifee had been a friend and enthusi- 
astic admirer of Henry Clay and once entertained 
that distinguished statesman at Oak Knoll. One 
of the keenest disappointments of Menifee's life 
was Mr. Clay's failure to reach the presidency. 
Quite naturally. Judge Menifee named his first and 

121 



122 FAIRHOPE 

only son Henry Clay, and that son grew up to 
revere fully as much as his father the traditions 
and memories of the great Kentucky orator. 

After the war, Major Menifee practised law in 
Lexington and there he married a lovely girl who 
was an accomplished dramatic reader. They went 
to Europe on their honeymoon and on their return 
settled in Lexington. One year later the beautiful 
young wife died, leaving a baby boy who was 
named Henry Clay Junior. The death of his wife 
prostrated Major Menifee and radically changed 
his life plans. He gave up his law office and took 
up his residence at the old homestead. With an 
unmarried sister, Clara, to look after little Henry 
Clay Junior, and two or three negro families on 
the place as servants in the house and help about 
the farm, the Major settled for life in Fairhope's 
community. Our neighbourhood welcomed the 
Major warmly and his return to the old home was 
an epoch in our community life. He supplied to 
our section of the State something of the old tone 
and quality which with his polished manners and 
outlook upon the world, became to us a thing of 
pride. His was one of the few old families that 
preserved the traditions and customs dear to the 
southern heart and so much admired by people 
everywhere. No visitor's sojourn in our commun- 
ity was complete until he had partaken of the 
Major's hospitality. For many years the Major 
was the only man in our community who wore — 
without fail — to church and other formal gather- 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 123 

ings a long-tailed, double-breasted, frock coat with 
a white waist-coat and grey worsted trousers. 
Sometimes he varied the frock with a shad-bellied 
coat which style well became his rather portly 
figure. When he went into the city or to Lexing- 
ton, or took a trip of moment, he wore a silk hat 
and carried a cane. He wore a moustache and a 
short, pointed beard which early turned from black 
to grey. To this day his complexion is fresh and 
ruddy, and his eyes are full of sparkle. There is 
an indefinable charm about the Major; he carries 
atmosphere ; he is an interesting and gallant gen- 
tleman. 

The Major's love for his son was touching. He 
idolised him, and from the hour of his birth his 
career was planned in detail. He should study law. 
He should be an orator! He should be a public 
man! He should go Into politics! And maybe 
some day be governor of the State, or United 
States senator ! Who knew what the boy might not 
do ? Had he not the finest heritage and an environ- 
ment that was all that could be desired I 

To this motherless boy Miss Clara Menifee was 
a second mother. If the Major was a gentleman 
of the old school, his sister was a lady of the 
same type. She was a lover of polite literature; 
a great admirer of the English poets; and shortly 
after Henry Clay Junior learned to read. Aunt 
Clara had him memorising Pope, Dryden, and 
Shakespeare. The boy grew up, as it seemed, fa- 
voured by God and man. Even as a little lad he 



124 FAIRHOPE 

showed the favour of the Creator. His face was 
moulded and rounded out like the marble statues 
of the Greek youths. He had the wide orator's 
mouth, and clear, dark eyes that could flash fire 
when he was aroused. He took to public speaking 
just as naturally and as soon as the duckling takes 
to water. From the time Henry Clay Junior 
started to the district school till he entered high 
school in Covington, there was never any speaking 
programme in Fairhope community that he did not 
have the prominent place. He memorised easily 
and retained wonderfully what he read. Even as 
a little boy he declaimed with grace, simplicity, 
and force. He was unaffected, genuine, and lov- 
able; and became the pride of our entire commun- 
ity. We saw that he had in him the making of a 
great public speaker, and we rejoiced whole-heart- 
edly in the modest and yet radiant enthusiasm of 
his father. 

When Henry Clay Junior was about fourteen 
and ready to start into high school at Covington, 
there occurred an event that greatly influenced his 
life. Richard Marvin was holding a protracted 
meeting at Fairhope and the interest was marked. 
Young Menifee had been reared in the church and 
had been taken there first as a mere child. He 
made confession of faith the first Sunday of the 
meeting, much to the joy of our people and the 
deep emotion of his father and Aunt Clara. That 
very afternoon on the way to the river to be bap- 
tised, Henry Clay Junior confided to his father 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 125 

that he purposed giving himself to the ministry 
instead of to law; and so sincere and earnest was 
the lad in his confidence that the Major assured 
him since it was his choice of careers he should 
follow his inclination and receive his father's sup- 
port. So it became known to our community that 
Henry Clay Junior was to be a preacher and not a 
lawyer. Fairhope people were greatly pleased 
with this change in the life plans of the favoured 
la.d whom we all so greatly loved. Jacob Board- 
man informed my father that he had expected just 
such a decision on the boy's part, and both to 
Boardman and my 'father Major Menifee declared 
his purpose freely. 

" The boy wants to preach," he said, " and 
preach he shall! There never has yet been a 
preacher among the Menifees and it's time there 
was one, and he must be a good one. I'll give 
Henry Clay Junior the best college and university 
training possible and when I'm through, together 
with what God's done for him, what his mother 
did for him, and what he'll do for himself, he'll 
grace Central's pulpit at Cincinnati or any other 
pulpit in the land." 

Then in the next breath the Major begged par- 
don for what might have seemed a boastful spirit. 
Bless the gallant gentleman! I always felt that 
Henry Clay Junior was mighty lucky to have such 
a father. 

Henry Clay Junior finished the four years high 
school course In Covington in three years, sweep- 



126 FAIRHOPE 

ing before him as he went along all the prizes in 
debate and oratory, and the while he continued 
to grow in favour with God and man. By the end 
of his high school course he had grown almost as 
tall as his father — and the Major is a six footer. 
His fine face grew in mobility; his voice was a 
rich baritone, musical, mellifluous; and he was as 
likable as ever. There was nothing stiff or formal 
about him; he overflowed with fun and his laugh 
was contagious, so hearty it was. He was active 
in church work in the city, often spoke at Christian 
Endeavour meetings, presided as toastmaster at 
banquets, and was leader in classes; all the while 
bending everything toward his chosen career — 
the ministry. Richard Marvin greatly loved the 
boy, who in turn regarded him almost as a demi- 
god. He used to spend frequent evenings at the 
Marvin home conversing about prominent minis- 
ters, the construction of sermons and books, and 
the various phases of a minister's career. 

Not only our community idolised and loved this 
lad, but there was one especially whose interest in 
Henry Clay Junior was very considerable. Judge 
Patton lived just opposite Menifee's and his young- 
est daughter, Lucy, and Henry Clay Junior were 
about the same age. As children, they played to- 
gether and were sweethearts even as romping play- 
mates. When young Menifee was in high school 
in Covington, Lucy was in a boarding school in 
Cincinnati; for as Major Menifee trained his son 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 127 

for the ministry, Judge Patton fitted Lucy to be 
Henry Clay Junior's wife, for it was very early ac- 
cepted in our community that these two young 
people would marry. Neither one of them ever 
had another love affair, so far as we knew. Lucy 
was the first girl that Henry Clay Junior ever 
took to a party, and Carter Goodpasture once 
said that if ever matches were made in heaven that 
of Henry Clay Menifee Junior and Lucy Patton 
was one such. They were very different in temper- 
ament: he was full of life, playful, and buoyant 
of nature; she was a quiet girl, and grew up to 
be a demure young woman, sweet and winsome. 
She was a blonde — not beautiful like Jennie Van 
Gorder, and lacked her dash and brilliance. She 
was an accomplished musician and possessed a sing- 
ing voice of uncommon sweetness. 

When Henry Clay Junior entered college at 
Lexington in the fall, Lucy Patton was enrolled 
as a student in the Women's College affiliated with 
the university. Fairhope followed with deep and 
abiding interest the careers of these young people 
who were our joy and pride. We heard from the 
Major or Miss Clara — usually from both — of 
the success Henry Clay Junior met with from the 
first. We learned the name of his literary society, 
his Greek letter fraternity, and of his progress in 
his studies. We knew of his entrance into the pri- 
mary for the inter-collegiate oratorical contest, and 
of his easy triumph in that skirmish. Then we 



128 FAIRHOPE 

learned the date of the inter-collegiate contest and 
for that event Major Menifee, Aunt Clara, Rich- 
ard Marvin, and I journeyed to Lexington. 

That inter-collegiate oratorical contest was a 
memorable affair, colourful, and vociferous. 
Never shall I forget it. Morrison Chapel was 
crowded with buoyant, effervescing young life. 
The noise of the rooters from the various insti- 
tutions represented was deafening. There were 
streaming banners and college yells in profusion. 
The excitement was intense. The Major, Miss 
Clara, Richard Marvin, and I were honoured with 
seats well toward the front. There were six con- 
testants and Henry Clay Junior was his glorious 
self. The other speakers were good, two of them 
especially so; but from the moment Henry Clay 
Junior faced that audience and uttered the first 
sentence of his oration, I knew the prize was won. 
His theme was *' Men Rise on Stepping Stones of 
Their Dead Selves to Higher Things." He 
showed the uses of adversity, the making of char- 
acter in the overcoming of difficulties. He was at 
perfect ease, there was no straining for effect. At 
times he grew impassioned, and I could feel the 
subtle influence of his magnetism. The Major be- 
came restless, and I could see by the expression of 
his face that he was nervous; but pride and love 
shone in his eyes. As for Aunt Clara, she sat there 
prim and proud, looking upon her foster son in 
frankest adoration. Henry Clay Junior won, and 
immediately the chapel became a perfect tide of 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 129 

struggling humanity. The lucky fellow was seized 
by his college mates and hoisted upon their shoul- 
ders, while another group unceremoniously gath- 
ered up the Major and carried him out in the hall. 
The cheering and the waving of banners was a 
perfect pandemonium. The Major's cheeks were 
flushed; his fine, immaculate shirt bosom crumpled. 
It was a great moment in his life. If it had been 
at all proper, I am sure the boys would have served 
Miss Clara precisely as they did Henry Clay Jun- 
ior and the Major. As it was, Miss Clara was the 
centre of a group of young fellows who all but 
hugged and kissed her with the untrammelled ar- 
dour and enthusiasm of college boys. Richard 
Marvin was so pleased with the outcome that he 
hugged me, beat on the floor with his cane, and 
shouted as loud as any sophomore in the chapel. 

The oratorical contest was in March. Late in 
May of the same year Henry Clay Junior preached 
his first sermon in Fairhope meeting-house. He 
had been speaking at religious meetings at the 
university, in the churches at Lexington, and had 
on several occasions supplied pulpits for some of 
the students, but this was his first appearance in 
Falrhope's pulpit. It was a radiantly beautiful day. 
Fairhope looked her fairest. The green in tree 
and field was velvety In Its hue. The whistle of the 
cardinal and the sweet warble of the bluebird made 
music In the trees about the church. The fragrance 
of apple blossoms was on the breezes and the sun- 
shine was golden and glorious. The meeting-house 



I30 FAIRHOPE 

was crowded. There were people present from 
nearby churches and some from points farther 
distant. The occasion was such as might be ex- 
pected to bring out the very best that was in this 
gifted lad. Lucy Patton was back from Lexington 
and sat in the choir. I could hear her high, clear 
voice as we sang, 

'' Beautiful Valley of Eden, 
Sweet is thy noon-tide calm.'* 

Jacob Boardman was in his place, Giles Shock- 
ley sat in the '' seat of the mighty." It was a 
sympathetic congregation, and there was not a 
man or woman there that had aught but pride and 
love in their hearts for Henry Clay Junior. I re- 
member his text, for it was a familiar one. It was 
John, the thirteenth chapter, thirty-fourth and 
thirty-fifth verses, '' A new commandment I give 
unto you, that ye love one another; even as I have 
loved you, that ye also love one another. By this 
shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye 
have love one to another." 

I wish I could repeat that sermon. I can only tell 
that I felt its power, that in its very simplicity there 
was a charm that held us. There were some 
places in it exceedingly tender, and as we listened 
we knew that in this lad was genius, wonderful gift 
of speech; and I speculated whether any preacher 
ever gave more promise than Henry Clay Junior. 
I can see now the faces of the people as I recall 
that day; and out of the many I can see three 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 131 

with peculiar distinctness. One of them was Major 
Menifee. As he sat there and hstened, 1 saw his 
strong, ruddy face moistened with tears; and I 
wondered then — as I wonder now — if there 
arose before him the vision of the young and 
beautiful wife who gave her life for her child? 
There was Aunt Clara, pride and joy written all 
over her aristocratic features. And I see the spir- 
ituelle face of Lucy Patton. There I saw that 
which was in neither the face of the Major nor 
Aunt Clara's. Just what it was, I cannot say; but 
joy and pride and love were all there, and more! 

That summer came and went, and the sombre 
tinge of autumn began to appear upon field and 
tree. In September Lucy Patton and Henry Clay 
Junior returned to Lexington. Scarcely a month 
had passed before we learned one day from the 
Major that typhoid fever had broken out among 
the students at the University and that of the 
boys who boarded at the dormitory, some thirty 
were in the Good Samaritan Hospital smitten with 
the fever. From the first the Major was concerned 
although Henry Clay Junior did not board at the 
dormitory. Still, he had several friends who lived 
there and with whom he frequently visited and 
dined. Thus the Major and Miss Clara were nat- 
urally fearful. 

In a day or two their fears were realised, for 
there came a telegram saying that Henry Clay Jun- 
ior had taken the fever and was in the hospital. 
The Major and Miss Clara left that night for Lex- 



132 FAIRHOPE 

ington and then for some days we watched the 
mails eagerly. We received several reports that 
were encouraging. Then there came a brief letter 
to Judge Patton from the Major in which he ex- 
pressed dissatisfaction with the progress the boy 
was making. The next day father had a post card 
saying Henry Clay Junior was not doing so well. 
Then for two days we had no word at all. 

Well do I remember the evening of October 28 
of that year. Supper was over, but we were sitting 
about the table talking. My sister Alice had just 
asked if any news had come from Lexington when 
there was a loud knock at the side door and be- 
fore any of us could answer it, the door opened 
and Jacob Boardman groped his way like a 
drunken man into the room. His fine old face was 
pallid and his eyes were red. 

*' Dave," he cried, '' he's gone. The lad's gone. 
Henry Clay Junior is dead." And then he sank 
into a chair, burying his face in his hands and 
sobbing like a child. 

We were dumb with the shock of it all, though 
father finally found his voice and said in a low 
tone as if to himself, '* My God, what will the 
Major do?" 

Then my sister Alice broke out in violent weep- 
ing. " Oh, poor Lucy Patton," she wailed. 

By and by Jacob Boardman got control of him- 
self sufficiently to tell us the telegram had come to 
Lawrenceburg, Indiana, and had been brought 
over that afternoon. He took out the yellow sheet 



MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 133 

and handed it to me. I read aloud its one laconic 
line: 

*' Henry Clay Junior died 2:15 this morning. 

Menifee.*' 

I don't know how we all lived through the next 
three days. It was as though there was a death in 
each of our homes. Fairhope's community was 
stricken low. The Major, Miss Clara, Lucy Pat- 
ton, and the body, arrived from Covington the 
next evening; and were met by Jacob Boardman, 
Judge Patton, Richard Marvin, and my father. 
That night the old Menifee mansion held all that 
was mortal of its heir and our bonnie preacher-boy. 

I shall not attempt to give an account of the 
funeral in any detail. Fairhope meeting-house was 
crowded, and many were unable to get inside, that 
October day. The sun had been behind the clouds 
since early morning and as the people gathered for 
the service there was a slight rain. I have heard 
Richard Marvin preach scores of funeral sermons 
and all of them were strong — even beautiful in 
their messages of comfort. But I never expect to 
hear again such a sermon as he preached that day. 
His text was the first clause of Genesis 21:20, 
" And the Lord was with the lad." 

He sketched Henry Clay's life among us, his 
natural gifts, and his great opportunities that came 
to prepare him for his life work. He reminded 
us how God was with the lad in plenitude and 
power and grace. '' And now," he said, '' the lad 



134 FAIRHOPE 

is with the Lord, and greater goal than this the 
world holds not." 

Such comfort ! Such hope ! Such faith ! As 
we listened, smitten low with grief, we were con- 
scious of a healing calm and sensed the presence 
of the Great Physician. 

When the procession left the meeting-house the 
rain had ceased, though the sky was still overcast. 
But as the body of Henry Clay Menifee Junior was 
lowered into the grave the sun came suddenly out 
from behind the bank of clouds and the mellow 
light shining through the dripping trees cast a 
rainbow of great beauty and brilliance upon the 
eastern sky. 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 

The name of Richard Marvin appears often in 
the annals of Fairhope church and most rightfully 
so, for of all our ministers this Godly man was 
identified with Fairhope the longest in point of 
time as well as closest in the blessed bonds that 
bind the shepherd to his flock. 

Marvin was the preacher I first remember, both 
in our home and in Fairhope' s pulpit. He was an 
all-round big man, and there was nothing small 
about him from his number eight hat to his num- 
ber ten boots, from his strong mentality to his 
great brotherly heart. He was well equipped edu- 
cationally, being an alumnus of our oldest college 
— the one founded by the great and good man to 
whom reference is made in the second chapter of 
these annals. Not only was Richard Marvin a 
graduate of that institution during the presidency 
of its founder, but he was also a pupil in one of 
the classes taught by that eminent scholar. 

Large man that he was physically, Marvin was 
quite lame from an injury which he received when 
a boy at play. The remainder of his life he walked 
with a cane, and toward the close he used both a 
cane and a crutch. He was a strong preacher, pos- 
sessing a resonant voice of much volume and a 
choice vocabulary of good, strong Anglo-Saxon 
words. Fluent of speech, he was also logical and 
coherent in his power of analysis ; and he was ca- 
pable when fully aroused of a sustained and im- 

137 



138 FAIRHOPE 

pressive eloquence. To this day — and it has been 
all of twenty years since I have heard him — I can 
recall distinctly a half-dozen or more of his ser- 
mons as to texts, illustrations, and even his line of 
argument. For example, he had an unique and ex- 
ceedingly helpful sermon on the word " So." He 
built the discourse upon three passages of Scripture 
in which the word occurred, as follows : 

John 3: 16 — *' For God so loved the world 
that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoso- 
ever believeth on Him should not perish but have 
eternal life." 

Acts 4:1 — *' And it came to pass in Iconium 
that they entered together into the synagogue with 
the Jews and so spake that a great multitude both 
of Jews and Greeks believed." 

Matthew 5 : 16 — " Let your light so shine be- 
fore men that they may see your good works, and 
glorify your Father which is in heaven." 

No one ever quite forgot this sermon, so 
uniquely and impressively did the preacher work 
out his emphasis on this little word, with applica- 
tions to every day living that were wholesome, 
pungent, and pointed. 

It has been my observation that some ministers 
are especially gifted in the conduct of funeral ser- 
vices, and of all the preachers I have known Rich- 
ard Marvin was the most graciously gifted in this 
respect. A funeral sermon by Richard Marvin was 
memorable. It was worth going miles to hear. He 
was so well balanced, never stiff or formal as some 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 139 

good and well meaning ministers are at such times. 
He spoke such ample comfort; his own faith was so 
unshaken in the goodness of God, and his sympa- 
thy with those bereaved was so unmistakable, that 
he kindled anew into flame the immortal hope that 
sometimes burns low in the breast of the bravest 
of earth. He conducted funerals in all sorts of 
weather, in all parts of our county, and for all 
kinds of people. He never refused to answer a 
call of that kind if he was able, and since he was 
seldom sick I doubt if he missed a half-dozen ser- 
vices in fifteen years. 

Marvin was particularly effective in his conduct 
of funeral services for children, and when eight 
years old Lydia Lucy Walmsley was killed by a 
fall from a horse, his sermon assuaged a grief that 
prostrated her parents and smote the hearts of us 
all. She was the only child of Dave and Sarah 
Walmsley, and the apple of their eyes. She was a 
dainty little girl with an abundance of flaxen hair 
which curled naturally and fell in ringlets about 
her sunny face. Marvin had married Dave and 
Sarah, was often a guest in their home, and he 
could not have loved a child of his own more de- 
votedly than Lydia Lucy. His grief was so poig- 
nant at the funeral that he controlled himself only 
by the exercise of strong will power; and his face 
was moist with tears throughout the service. He 
read from the eighth and ninth verses of the 
eighth chapter of Genesis: '^ Also he sent a dove 
from him to see if the waters were abated from 



I40 FAIRHOPE 

the ground. But the dove found no rest for the 
sole of her feet, and she returned unto him in the 
ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole 
earth. Then he put forth his hand and took her, 
and he pulled her unto him into the ark.'* 

*' Lydia Lucy Walmsley was like the dove Noah 
sent out from the ark," he explained. '' She flitted 
here and there among Fairhope's neighbourhood 
where everybody loved her and still she found no 
permanent resting place for her busy little feet. 
Like Noah, God put forth His hand and has taken 
her back into the heavenly ark; yea, to His own 
bosom. God's welcome to Lydia Lucy was ever so 
much tenderer than Noah's welcome to the dove, 
for He welcomed her as Jesus did the little ones in 
Galilee nineteen hundred years ago when He said, 
' Suffer the little children to come unto me and 
forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 
God.' " 

Thus it is possible to show something of this 
good man's manner of speech on those occasions 
when strong men and women are bowed to earth 
as a mighty wind bows the trees of the forest, but 
the large sympathy of the man and the atmos- 
phere of his unshaken faith — these cannot be con- 
veyed by the printed page. Marvin possessed in 
rich quality the shepherd heart without which 
no man, however gifted, can ever be a really great 
preacher. He was the kind of minister whom one 
instinctively turns to in time of trouble, and to be 
with him for an hour or so was to confirm the 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 141 

strongest faith and re-establish the weakest in the 
great virtues of our religion. 

Marvin also officiated at many weddings. He 
married hundreds of couples in northern Kentucky 
the twelve years he ministered at Fairhope and the 
additional years he resided at Covington. His 
fund of anecdotes and incidents growing out of his 
experiences at weddings, was well nigh inexhausti- 
ble. Out of a number I recall one in particular. 
Marvin was called down in the southern part of 
the county to marry a couple who were utter 
strangers to him. He made arrangements for a 
horse and buggy at a livery barn in Millersburg. 
Just as he was ready to drive away, he said to 
the liveryman who was a friend of long standing, 
'' Now, Tm going to marry a couple this evening 
and ril either pay you your regular price for this 
rig, or ril give you half the wedding fee." 

" It's a bargain! " said the liveryman. '' FU be 
satisfied with half the fee you get." 

Marvin married the couple and after the cere- 
mony the groom, a brawny six-footer, said, '* Par- 
son, I'm a thousand times obliged." And that was 
all there was to it. 

Marvin got back some time the next day, and 
leaving the horse and vehicle in the barn, he said 
to the liveryman, '' I'm five hundred times obliged 
to you." 

'' Yes, I know," said the liveryman, ** but 
where's half the fee you promised? " 

'' That's it," answered Marvin. Then he re- 



142 FAIRHOPE 

peated the groom's words. They both laughed 
heartily, and not a cent would the liveryman take. 

Marvin was greatly blessed and most ably as- 
sisted in his ministry by his wife. Few ministers 
were ever so fortunate in their choice of a life com- 
panion. Mrs. Marvin was a help-meet of singular 
temperamental and spiritual equipment. She was 
genuine, affectionate, tactful, and wholesomely 
good to look upon. If her husband had been a 
much less efficient man and minister, his wife's 
strength and beauty of character would have car- 
ried him safely over many a shoal where other- 
wise he would have made ship-wreck. It was little 
wonder that our people loved Richard Marvin and 
his wife who never having had children of their 
own, poured out so bountifully their parental love 
upon their brothers and sisters in the Lord. They 
were in our homes in times of bitter grief and 
heavy disappointment, and their presence was like 
the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. They 
rejoiced with us when we rejoiced, and wept with 
us when we wept. When Jacob Boardman was 
weathering his most critical financial storm and an 
assignment seemed inevitable, the Marvins came 
down from Covington and stayed for all of a week 
at the Boardman home comforting and heartening 
the household. 

My father loved Marvin as a brother, and they 
were always happy in each other's company. They 
were about the same age and of similar tempera- 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 143 

ment. I possess and greatly prize certain letters 
from that servant of the Christ which reveal both 
his friendship for my father and his strong pastor 
heart. They are almost too sacred to spread out 
upon a public page, and only because they reveal 
so tenderly the great heart of their author am I 
permitting myself to do what otherwise I should 
not for a moment consider. The first one of these 
letters was written to my father shortly after his 
defeat by a narrow margin as his party's nominee 
for Congress. 

Covington, Kentucky, June 2, 189 — 
My dear David: 

I see by the Enquirer that you failed of nomination yes- 
terday by six votes. I am sorry, for the Sixth Congres- 
sional district, that you lost; but I congratulate you on 
your defeat. Politics for men of your ideals, David, af- 
fords a great field of usefulness; but at the same time 
offers manifold experiences that are distasteful and even 
disgusting. I think I told you on several occasions of my 
regret because Garfield went into politics. To be sure, it 
brought him greatness and renown ; but at the same time 
great sorrow, and it finally cost him his life. Yes, my 
friend and brother, you are the gainer; instead of having 
to settle every post office fight in your district, and being 
annoyed half to death by the same, you can walk over your 
fertile fields, sit on your wide verandah at Maple Shade, 
worship God at Fairhope meeting-house, and live and die 
in peace. 

Hurriedly, but with affectionate regards. 

Richard Marvin. 



144 FAIRHOPE 

The second letter I first saw after father read 
it all alone in his bed chamber and shortly after- 
ward brought it to me. It was written three days 
after the funeral services that Richard Marvin 
conducted for mother. 

Covington, Kentucky, September 20, 189 — 
My dear David: 

Since I have returned home you and your loss have been 
constantly upon my mind. I know how terribly lonely 
your lot will be until you reach that land where sickness 
never comes and death is unknown. You were a well 
mated couple, and after forty-five years of wedded life the 
world doesn't seem to hold much for you without her. 
That I know full well ; but our Source of Comfort is all 
sufficient. Thanks be unto *' The God of all comfort who 
comforteth us in all our afflictions through the comfort 
wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." That's 
a great word, David, and best of all it is true! To pass 
through an experience as yours in serenity of faith in the 
Gospel of Jesus Christ, means that heaven is nearer and 
that the tug of earth is less perceptible. My dear friend, 
I shall bear you much in mind, and remember you often 
at the throne of grace and mercy. My heart goes out to 
you, David, and to every member of your family. God 
bless and keep you. 

Fraternally and affectionately yours, 

Richard Marvin. 

The third letter of Marvin's that I reproduce 
here grew out of the strange and almost tragic 
experience that came upon that noble man in his 
last years. Upon his leaving Fairhope after round- 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 145 

ing out twelve years as minister, he had regular 
work for a while; then only occasional preaching 
appointments; and finally with the exception of 
funeral services, he was practically pushed aside 
and laid upon the shelf in the full splendour and 
mellowness of his strong, spiritual maturity. Only 
a few of the Fairhope folk knew the seriousness of 
the circumstances; among the number — naturally 
enough — were Jacob Boardman, Major Menifee, 
and my father — all three of whom endeavoured 
to help Marvin secure a church, but without suc- 
cess. It was in answer to a letter from father re- 
porting his failure in this respect, and deploring 
the condition among the churches that made such 
a thing possible, that the letter which follows was 
written : 

Covington, Kentucky, December 8, 189 — 
My dear David: 

I want to thank you for your very kind letter of recent 
date telling of your disappointments in failing to secure 
for me a call from Somerset Church. I do not know why, 
David, unless it is my age ; but I am no longer in demand 
as a preacher, not even among the smaller and weaker 
churches. I would rather preach the Gospel than do any- 
thing else in the wide world, and I believe myself better 
able to preach with power and conviction to-day than at 
any other period of my life. I would feel this slight, 
David, even if I were of independent means. As it is, I 
am doubly wounded by the disposition of the churches to 
spurn my services. Even so, my brother, I want to say 
that I love the Cause to-day more than ever — if such 



146 FAIRHOPE 

were possible ; and I shall praise God with my dying breath, 
even if that breath should have to be drawn in an alms- 
house, for His mercies and goodness to me and mine. 
Believe me, David, your grateful friend and brother in 
the Lord. Richard Marvin. 

I do not know why a man like Marvin should be 
shelved as he was, and as other men like him have 
been. It is difficult to explain the fact that at the 
very time of life when a doctor's skill and a law- 
yer's knowledge is the most valuable, the minister 
is in so many instances relegated to the rear or 
thrust to one side and regarded only too often with 
a kind of pitying contempt. I have always been 
fond of young preachers, and much as I enjoy hear- 
ing them preach, their sermons rarely grip me as 
do those which have been filtered through a per- 
sonality and life lived long and deep enough to test 
severely the truths which they preach. It may be 
that some people differ from me in this respect. I 
do not know; but as I view it, a preacher even of 
ripe training and rare natural gifts does not attain 
his full preaching ability until fifty. 

In reflecting on Marvin and the sad fate that 
befell him, I have endeavoured to recall some 
weakness that might account for his shelving In his 
latter years. I can think of but one possible defect : 
he could not make a ten minutes' talk nor preach a 
short sermon. His mental faculties bordered, per- 
haps, on the ponderous; and for the first five or 
ten minutes of his preaching he was not especially 
interesting. As I recall him, he resembled a great 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 147 

ocean liner that has to be pulled out from harbour 
by a tugboat to the open sea, and then proceeds to 
get under full headway and ploughs steadily and 
sturdily through the waters of the great deep. In 
the earlier years of his ministry this characteristic 
could scarcely be called a defect, in his later years 
I fear that it became such. 

The sad chapter in Richard Marvin's life came 
as a consequence of his inability to secure a place 
to preach. God is his witness that he tried hard 
enough, only to fail. He found it necessary to do 
something to earn a competence that would keep 
him in his very modest mode of living, and it hap- 
pened*that a coffee plantation company, with head- 
quarters somewhere in Mexico, secured him as an 
agent. One or two of the big men in the company 
Marvin had known years before; in fact, one of 
them a dozen years previous was a conspicuous 
figure in our national church councils and later 
prominent in politics. He had every confidence in 
these men and believed, of course, that the com- 
pany was thoroughly reliable. Because of his wide 
acquaintance and the confidence every one had in 
him, Marvin successfully disposed of some twenty- 
five thousand dollars' worth of the plantation 
stock. In numerous instances the stock was sold in 
small blocks and among people who could only 
afford a small investment. It turned out that the 
so-called *' big " man in the plantation company 
was a grand rascal and looted its treasury of two 
hundred thousand dollars, and made his escape 



148 FAIRHOPE 

successfully to South America. It all came like a 
lightning flash from a cloudless sky, and Richard 
Marvin was stricken low by the exposure. He took 
his entire savings which was, I think, the commis- 
sion on the stock he had sold — twenty-five hun- 
dred dollars in all — and pro rated it to the need- 
iest of the men and women who had bought the 
stock upon his recommendation. Some of his old 
friends in Fairhope's community came to his relief 
both in a financial way and by sympathetic expres- 
sions of their friendships. But the thing broke 
Richard Marvin's heart. He never fully recovered 
from the blow. A little more than six months after 
the crash he conducted a funeral service in our 
county and contracted a cold from the exposure at 
the graveside, for it was a raw day in November. 
Pneumonia developed and in the early morning of 
the sixth day of his illness Marvin died. 

His funeral took place in one of the large 
churches in Cincinnati. A great throng of people 
attended and there was an expression of grief sin- 
cere and widespread. Many of our Fairhope peo- 
ple were in attendance. Major Menifee was a pall- 
bearer; and no sincerer mourners were there than 
that company that came across the river from the 
community where for twelve years Richard Marvin 
had been the bishop of our souls. There were some 
eloquent addresses made at that funeral; trained 
voices sang beautifully the hymns of the faith; and 
the great auditorium was redolent with the per- 
fume of flowers. It was all very tender, impressive, 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 149 

and richly deserved. Nevertheless, I could not but 
reflect that If the large and prosperous religious 
body served so acceptably by Richard Marvin for 
the best of his life had only provided for him even 
modestly in his declining years, the grief and the 
canker of the last six months of his life would not 
have been his to know. 

One hymn sung at his funeral portrayed most 
admirably his sturdy character and his useful ca- 
reer. It is a hymn that was much sung in the early 
days of Fairhope and. always at the funeral ser- 
vices of our most faithful men. To this day I never 
hear the hymn without a thrill and an indefinable 
emotion. The second and fourth stanzas were our 
favourites. 

" Fallen — on Zion's battle field, 

A soldier of renown, 
Armed in the panoply of God, 

In conflict cloven down ! 
His helmet on, his armour bright, 

His cheek unblanched with fear — 
While round his head there gleamed a light 

His dying hour to cheer. 

" Fallen — as sets the sun at eve. 

To rise in splendour where 
His kindred luminaries shine, 

Their heaven of bliss to spare ; 
Beyond the stormy battle field, 

He reigns in triumph, now, 
Sweeping a harp of wond'rous song 

With glory on his brow ! " 



I50 FAIRHOPE 

Mrs. Marvin continued to reside in Covington 
several years after her husband's death. Besides 
an unmarried sister who lived with her, one of her 
nephews made his home there while attending 
medical school in Cincinnati. Fairhope people kept 
her often in mind and scarcely a week past that 
some of us did not look in upon her. During the 
summer months she came down in the Fairhope 
community and visited for a week or ten 
days. 

Whenever I was in Cincinnati and could possi- 
bly spare the time, I usually made a brief visit to 
the Marvin home. One afternoon I was persuaded 
to stay for supper and remain over night. We lin- 
gered long at the supper table and sat up late talk- 
ing of old times at Fairhope, and of the younger 
generation that was coming on, and of the changes 
that had taken place in recent years. That evening 
Mrs. Marvin opened her heart to me and gave me 
the detailed history of the sufferings of her hus- 
band the last six months of his life. The iron had 
entered his soul, he had dwelt long in Gethsemane; 
but there was no bitterness in his widow's voice as 
she told the sorrowful story — only a calm, sweet 
constancy that greatly touched my heart. When I 
went up to my room it was close to midnight. I was 
weary but not at all sleepy. As I stood at the dress- 
ing table, my mind still on the vicissitudes that 
shadowed darkly Richard Marvin's last days, 
some objects in the corner of the room drew my 
attention. When I recognised what they were I 



AS SOME TALL CLIFF 151 

experienced a distinct shock. There resting against 
the wall was a cane and a crutch. I went over and 
touched them reverently. How many times I had 
seen Richard Marvin swing himself along by the 
help of that crutch and that cane ! Passing strange 
it is to me that people go and things abide; that 
persons we knew and loved are gone from our sight 
and sound, and the things they used to touch and 
handle every day — the inanimate things — they 
are here and there and all about us ! 

I turned off the light and went to bed, but some- 
how sleep fled from me. For a long time I lay 
there recalling the scenes at Fairhope in which 
Richard Marvin had been such a vital influence for 
good. And when I did fall asleep it was to dream 
of what I had thought when lying there wide 
awake. I was in Fairhope meeting-house which 
was crowded to the doors. It was an anniversary 
celebration for our faithful preacher and Jacob 
Boardman was making a speech in the pulpit — a 
congratulatory address full of gracious tribute to 
our minister. I saw him take a roll of bills of 
large-sized denominations from his pocket and 
hand them to Marvin, who rose to receive them. 
Then Richard Marvin bent over and kissed Jacob 
Boardman on the cheek and I beheld them both 
weeping and the congregation also weeping. I 
wept, too ; and then we stood and sang amidst our 
tears : 

" Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love," 



152 FAIRHOPE 

just as we had sung it time and time again at 
Fairhope; and while we were singing I suddenly 
awoke to find myself in the Marvin home, and my 
face wet with tears. 

I have long been fond of Oliver Goldsmith's 
*' The Deserted Village," and an admirer of the 
lovely portrait he draws therein of the village par- 
son in particular. I cannot say how many times I 
have read the poem, I suppose a half-hundred 
times at least. But this I know: never do I read 
the magnificent passage that concludes the author's 
tribute to the village preacher's rugged character 
and serenity of faith, but there comes between me 
and the printed page the face and form of Richard 
Marvin. 

" As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.'' 



WHEN POLITICS AND 
RELIGION MIXED 



WHEN POLITICS AND 
RELIGION MIXED 

It has been a theory of our Fairhope politicians 
that religion and politics should not mix, and I bear 
our good men witness that it was unusual — par- 
tisans though we were — to bring party politics 
into the conduct of the affairs of church, or vice 
versa. With all of our partisanship, we were not 
a bigoted people even when party lines were more 
closely drawn than they are now. Richard Marvin 
was a Republican; and despite the fact that men of 
his party were scarce in Fairhope, our people were 
the soul of loyalty in their devotion to that noble 
minister of the Gospel. But regardless of our 
efforts to separate religion and politics, at least 
once we purposely set about mixing them thor- 
oughly; and thereby appends an episode of our 
community life which has now become one of the 
traditions of the elders. 

Most of our leading Fairhope men have been 
more or less identified with politics. Judge Patton 
was county judge for two terms; Carter Goodpas- 
ture served one term as sheriff; Major Menifee 
was a member of the State Executive Committee 
of his party; David Westbrooke, Sr., was defeated 
by a narrow margin for Congress; and even Jacob 
Boardman served one term as magistrate. Politi- 
cally, we are not divided equally. Four-fifths of 
our people are Democrats, and our exciting times 

155 



156 FAIRHOPE 

are not on the general election days but at the pri- 
maries where a nomination is equivalent to an elec- 
tion. I may be mistaken, but I have a conviction 
that northern Kentucky boasts more politics to the 
square foot than any other section of the Union. 

In politics — as in everything else — some men 
are pronounced failures, while others are marvels 
of success; and alas! both the failure and success 
are often quite apart from individual merit. It 
sometimes happens that the best of men are the 
most diffident and commonplace campaigners. 
Fairhope numbered among its members such a 
man, by name : Jethro Walmsley. He was a mod- 
est, self-effacing sort of person; well past middle 
life ; the very soul of honour ; of kind and generous 
heart; but a more timid, retiring man never lived. 
In appearance he was slight of figure, with grey 
hair and beard and a fine patrician sort of face. 
Yet, notwithstanding his shrinking nature, Jethro 
Walmsley had for fifteen years nourished ardently 
an ambition to represent Boone County in the 
State Legislature at Frankfort. Three times he 
had been a candidate, and as often he had met de- 
feat in the primary and with one exception he was 
the low man out of some three or four candidates. 
Insofar as ability was concerned, he was far better 
fitted by character and education to represent us 
than the man who defeated him; but as an elec- 
tioneer he was a joke, though against the advice 
of his friends he persisted in canvassing the county 
from one end to the other. The result was, to use 



POLITICS AND RELIGION 157 

Carter Goodpasture's words, that '' everywhere he 
went he decreased his vote." 

Walmsley's three defeats grieved him deeply, 
humiliated his family, and embarrassed his breth- 
ren at Fairhope. He was a faithful attendant at 
the church, a generous contributor, and in every 
way a man who deserved good things at the hands 
of the people. After his third defeat we hoped he 
never again would become a candidate ; but lo ! six 
months previous to the very next primary he again 
announced his candidacy for the legislature. For a 
brief time it looked as if he would have no op- 
ponent, and we rejoiced accordingly. But our joy 
was short lived. A resident of Petersburg, one 
Thomas J. Jackson, announced his candidacy for 
the same office; and Walmsley was thus assured of 
another contest. Immediately Jethro's friends 
throughout the county became worried, and our 
politicians in Fairhope church in particular, were 
disturbed. It looked like another defeat for the 
little grey man, so ambitious and yet at the same 
time so unobtrusive. 

Major Menifee and Judge Patton were not only 
close neighbours and fellow church members, but 
political cronies as well. Their interest in Walms- 
ley's success was keen, and shortly after the an- 
nouncement of Jackson's candidacy the Judge and 
the Major got together to discuss the bearings of 
his entry In the legislative race. 

*' Why that man Jackson will beat Walmsley, 
and Jethro has more manhood in one of his little 



158 FAIRHOPE 

fingers than Jackson has in his whole body/' ob- 
served Major Menifee. '' It's a shame, but it's a 
fact that most any scallywag in the county with a 
gift of gab and a slight degree of decency could 
beat Jethro Walmsley to a finish. What's your 
idea, Judge, about this race? " 

Judge Patton reflected before answering. " Of 
course you're right, Major. Tom Jackson — even 
with his streak of yellow — will beat Walmsley 
three hundred votes. I have an idea. I'm not sure 
it's feasible, but I'll give it to you for what it's 
worth. Nim Hayden down in the South Fork 
neighbourhood, has wanted to run for representa- 
tive for a number of years. All he needs is a little 
encouragement and a mighty little, at that. Now 
Nim's not a bad fellow in a way, but he's an in- 
fidel — at least he has that reputation; and if Nim 
should run, and Jackson stays in — Jackson's not 
a member of any church, he's sort of a brother-in- 
law, I believe — in a three cornered race of this 
kind Jethro could win out. The church people of 
this county won't take much stock in Jackson, and 
mighty few votes will Nim Hayden get in that 
quarter." 

The Major looked thoughtful and smoked 
steadily, before replying. '' Judge, do you think 
you can bring about Nim's candidacy and do it in 
such a way that it will not arouse suspicion? I 
know you can do it if anybody can." 

'* Yes, sir, I can accomplish it. Major. I don't 
relish mixing into this matter personally, but I 



POLITICS AND RELIGION 159 

have a henchman or two down in the southern part 
of the county that will put a bug in Nimrod's ear 
and he'll do the rest.'' 

'' Then begin the battle, Patton; and count on 
me and any one of a half-dozen dependables at 
Fairhope to help you out if you need it." 

So saying, the Judge and Major shook hands 
and the compact was made. 

Judge Patton's plan, innocently operated as it 
was by apparently disinterested neighbours in the 
South Fork neighbourhood, worked wonders. A 
half-dozen of us in the northern part of the county 
were not surprised when one fine day the county 
paper carried the announcement of Nimrod Hay- 
den's candidacy. At once the interest deepened and 
the political pot started boiling in earnest. The 
candidates for the various offices in the county 
plunged into a lively canvass. There was the usual 
interest and everybody talked politics. Hayden, 
Jackson, and Walmsley, with a score of other 
candidates, were on the go early and late. At 
every gathering of church and lodge, at public 
sales, and especially on court day, one could not 
toss up a stone without hitting a candidate. Fair- 
hope folks were elated at Jethro Walmsley's out- 
look for victory. At last it seemed the coveted 
prize was within his grasp. That little grey man, 
diffident as usual, mingled shyly at the various 
gatherings, actually believing himself to be in- 
fluencing scores of votes in his behalf. In truth, he 
was making no votes through his personality, but 



i6o FAIRHOPE 

for the first time in his life he was winning a con- 
stituency and all because one of the opposing can- 
didates was a reputed infidel and the other not of 
the highest type of character. Jethro was greatly 
pleased with the rising tide in his political favour 
and became thereby not puffed up with pride but 
rather more self-effacing than ever. 

Thus the campaign went on merrily with 
Walmsley's stock going up every day and a per- 
ceptible undertone of strong opposition to Hayden 
on the one hand and against Jackson on the other. 
The Judge and Major were jubilant and began 
to speculate on the size of Jethro's plurality. 
Then, just two weeks before the primary, a bomb 
shell in the way of unexpected news exploded in 
our community. 

It happened that Judge Patton drove over to 
the county seat where he expected to spend the day, 
but his stay was shortened by several hours on ac- 
count of a piece of information he picked up quite 
casually from a group of men who were sunning 
themselves in the court-house yard. After satisfy- 
ing himself that the report was substantially true, 
he straightway drove over to Oak Knoll as fast as 
his fleet, well-bred driving horse could take him. 
The Major was on the verandah reading his 
Courier Journal when he saw the Judge drive up, 
and immediately dropped the paper and went to 
meet him, satisfied that his neighbour's call was 
of more than ordinary importance. Judge Patton 
reigned in his horse but made no move toward 



POLITICS AND RELIGION i6i 

getting out of the vehicle. It was plain to see that 
he was agitated. The two men shook hands as 
though they had been separated for years instead 
of for hours. 

'' Major," gasped the Judge, " upon my word, 
things have come to a pretty pass! Why Nim 
Hayden has joined the church! " 

''What's that?" exclaimed the Major. ''No, 
no, surely there's some mistake." 

" It is true as Gospel," rejoined the Judge. 
" There's a big revival on at Antioch, and bless my 
soul! among the converts last night was Nim 
Hayden. The story's travelling on the four winds. 
You know what that means to the hopes of Jethro 
Walmsley." 

The Major^s expression of astonishment gave 
place to one of good-natured seriousness, and 
there was a trace of a smile on his face as he re- 
plied. " Judge, you and I ought to be ashamed of 
ourselves deploring the news of Nim Hayden's 
conversion. Assuming it's sincere, there must be 
joy among the angels over the coming of that man 
to the foot of the Cross. Only — I fervently wish 
he had postponed it until after the election. It 
will, as you say, affect our candidate seriously. 
When the news of his conversion gets out over this 
county it will make hundreds of votes for Nim 
and poor Jethro will be snowed under. If Hayden 
had planned this conversion as a part of his cam- 
paign, he couldn't have timed it better. What shall 
we do to head him off, Patton? " 



i62 FAIRHOPE 

" There's only one thing left to be done if 
Jethro's scalp is saved," rejoined the Judge. '' I 
don't like to do it — I never have done it — and I 
hope I never have to do it again. We've just got 
to line up all our brothers in the faith in the county 
and vote our church solid for Jethro. We'll have 
to select a man in every one of our twelve con- 
gregations and put him to work for Walmsley. 
Yes, sir, we'll have to organise our brethren, 
Major, and vote 'em to a man. It's against both 
my religious and political convictions to mix church 
and state; but it's either that or Walmsley will 
suffer defeat, and it will just kill him if his pres- 
ent candidacy should end in a disaster." 

'' You're right. Judge," the Major approved 
grimly. *' I don't like it either, but there's no other 
way now. Map out your campaign. I'll help you, 
and every other Fairhope man will take his coat 
off to save the day for Jethro. I don't believe Nim 
Hayden's conversion is genuine. Maybe I oughtn't 
to say that. Judge, but I feel that way just the 
same. Still, that's not here nor there now. We've 
got to save Jethro. But first of all, Patton, you 
get right out of the buggy and take dinner with 
me. After we've dined we'll plan this campaign in 
detail." 

The Judge accepted the invitation and the two 
mapped out a campaign that was truly Napoleonic. 
As working capital immediately available, the 
Judge and Major had acquaintances throughout 
the entire county and were men of wide influence. 



POLITICS AND RELIGION 163 

Their word was weighty and their support of any 
man was a movement significant in the county. 
They took a dozen trusty Fairhope men into their 
confidence at once and instituted a quiet, yet thor- 
ough canvass in every one of our twelve churches. 
The Major made it a point to have business mat- 
ters call him to various parts of the county, thus 
giving him opportunity to do missionary work 
himself. The Judge was likewise a sojourner in 
certain sections of the county for as much as a day 
at a time, and busy from dawn till dark. At that 
time we had four resident ministers in the county 
and where it was possible and feasible these men 
did quiet but effective work among their brethren. 
The campaign rapidly reached a point where the 
interest was at a white heat. That Hayden's con- 
version had made an impression throughout the 
county and in some quarters had created a mild 
sensation, was only too true. For two or three 
days after, his stock went up by leaps and bounds. 
Had the election been a week after that eventful 
night of the revival meeting he would have swept 
the county like a prairie fire. The work of the 
Judge and Major was telling — no doubt of that; 
but even so, Hayden still looked like a winner and 
Walmsley's friends were uneasy. The primary 
was on Saturday and on the Wednesday before the 
county paper carried a notable biographical sketch 
of Jethro Walmsley. Whoever wrote it did a 
clever piece of work. His family connections were 
commented upon, his honourable career in the 



i64 FAIRHOPE 

county pointed out, and the fact that he had been 
a Christian all his life was given a special promin- 
ence. Undoubtedly the article which was well writ- 
ten and true, did good service for Fairhope's mod- 
est, self-effacing, perennial candidate. Neverthe- 
less, we were all anxious and by no means confident 
as to the outcome. 

The day of the primary we worked like Trojans, 
determined that Jethro should get every vote in 
our precinct that could be honourably secured 
for him. And out of i8o cast there, he got 150, 
Jackson 6, Hayden 24. We received the returns 
from the primary at Beagle's store for it was be- 
fore the days of the general use of telephones in 
our homes. The first precincts reporting showed 
Hayden running like a deer and confirmed our 
fears that the race would be a neck-and-neck affair. 
It was midnight before all the returns came in 
and not until the last precinct was heard from was 
the outcome certain. The final vote was 

Jackson 405 

Hayden 1002 

Walmsley 1038 

The Major mopped his brow when the finals 
were figured up and proceeded to fill his pipe 
afresh. As he fumbled in his waist-coat pocket for 
a match he ventured to address the Judge, who 
was getting into his overcoat. '* Well, for once I 
guess politics and religion mixed a bit. Eh, 
Judge?'' 



POLITICS AND RELIGION 165 

The Judge chuckled deeply. *' That's where you 
are wrong, Major. They never do, and nobody 
knows better than yourself that this campaign 
weVe carried on had mighty little religion in it 
and a whole carload of politics." 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 

Harmon Vaughn was twenty-two years old when 
he became our minister at Fairhope. The first 
six months he served as a student preacher, since 
he was rounding out his senior year at the Semin- 
ary. After graduation he took up his residence in 
our county and for nearly five years he was our 
popular and beloved pastor. During that time 
Fairhope flourished as in the old days, and when 
Vaughn left us to go to a city church he took away 
something more substantial even than Fairhope's 
love and best wishes and left us sore and sick of 
heart because of a double loss. 

Vaughn's first visit to Fairhope was on a bleak 
Saturday afternoon in January. We do not have 
Saturday preaching services at Fairhope now, but 
for two decades they were a feature of our church 
life. The women folk predominated at the Satur- 
day meetings usually, though occasionally there 
was a fair attendance of the older men. The 
afternoon of Vaughn's initial sermon — despite 
the bleakness of the day — the audience was un- 
commonly large and representative of a Sunday 
service. We had been without a minister for sev- 
eral months and the rumour that a young student 
of unusual ability was to preach helped to swell 
the attendance. Vaughn was late In arriving and 
we were In our pews when he came In with Major 
Menifee who had met him at the river. 

When Harmon Vaughn walked up the aisle, 

169 



I70 FAIRHOPE 

went into the pulpit, and announced the opening 
hymn, the impression he made upon us was dis- 
tinctly favourable. We saw a sturdy, prepossess- 
ing, young man; about six feet in height, and slen- 
der; with a frank, open face; a winsome person- 
ality; and the platform presence of a natural 
speaker. As the congregation rose to sing 

** There is a land of pure delight 
Where saints immortal reign/* 

Carter Goodpasture was not the only one whose 
appraising eyes travelled back and forth from the 
wholesome looking young man in the pulpit to 
the fine figure and lovely face of Jennie Van Gor- 
der in the choir. Goodpasture who was a horse- 
man and given to expressing himself in the 
metaphors and simile of the track and paddock, 
after a survey of choir and pulpit, whispered 
rather noisily to Breck Shelby who sat by him, 
" What a team of high steppers Jennie Van and 
the new parson would make ! " 

Carter's comment, however, was not extraordi- 
nary for he was a born matchmaker and when he 
should have been listening to sermons he was gaz- 
ing about the congregation and picking out suit- 
able pairs for the matrimonial market. 

Jennie Van Gorder could not have been more 
than twenty when Vaughn came to Fairhope 
church. She was as pretty a girl as I ever saw. No 
description can do justice to her girlish grace and 
loveliness. She inclined to the brunette type with 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 171 

plentiful meshes of what Major Menifee called 
" raven tresses." And to quote the gallant Major 
further, '' her cheeks were like roses in the snow." 

The Major, himself, could not praise too highly 
Jennie's deep blue eyes or her adorable smile. 
Unlike some beautiful girls, Jennie was brilliant 
of mind; and best of all, she was thoroughly un- 
spoiled, a sweet and sincere soul. Little wonder 
that she was an acknowledged belle and much 
sought out by beaux and gallants. During the four 
years Jennie spent in a boarding-school in central 
Kentucky she was a great favourite socially. She 
had circles of friends in Frankfort and Lexington, 
and there was a stream of young life coming and 
going continually at the Van Gorders. So far as 
we knew, her heart and hand were her own, 
though rumours were flying thick and fast about 
Jennie and her admirers. A young society man 
from Cincinnati — wealthy, attractive, and con- 
sidered a great catch — was very fond of Jennie. 
His visits to the Van Gorder home were just as 
frequent as Jennie would permit. Then there was 
WInthrop of Frankfort — a dashing young lawyer 
who had lost his heart completely. And also a 
doctor from Louisville. But to remember all of 
Jennie Van Gorder's suitors, or to call the names 
of the young men In our community who wor- 
shipped at her shrine, would be too great a task 
for me. 

We liked Vaughn from the first excepting, per- 
haps, Giles Shockley who thought he detected a 



172 FAIRHOPE 

faint trace of heresy in parts of his sermons. 
Young and old were alike drawn to the young 
man. He was so human, so likeable. His popu- 
larity among us was marked and it grew rather 
than diminished the longer he stayed. Our older 
men began to father him at once; Major Menifee, 
in particular. There was about this young minister 
something which reminded the Major of Henry 
Clay Junior, and it came about naturally and quite 
spontaneously that Major Menifee assumed a 
sponsorship over Harmon Vaughn. 

Young preachers interest me and I have made 
a study of them. I fancy myself able to discover 
on first hearing a young domine preach whether 
or not he was really called to be a Herald of the 
Christ. Harmon Vaughn was born to preach; he 
had the preaching instinct, and the prophet's fire. 
He was of studious habits; and in his early min- 
istry, by industrious preparation, laid the founda- 
tion for a notable preaching career. His individu- 
ality was strong and a trifle eccentric. He was 
careful about his clothes and careless about his 
hair. In the five years that he preached at Fair- 
hope I never saw him go into the pulpit wearing a 
mussed-up suit or soiled linen. He was far from 
a fop, but the most careful preacher about his 
attire I have known. Vaughn's hair was dark 
brown, straight, and he wore it rather long. He 
seemed in doubt just how to dispose of his trouble- 
some locks as they rebelled against orderly ar- 
rangement. V^hen he first came he parted his hair 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 173 

almost in the middle. In a few months he changed 
the part to the left side and then — perhaps six 
months later — he changed it to the right side. 
When he got into the midst of a sermon the front 
locks had a provoking way of falling down into his 
eyes. 

Harmon Vaughn fell head long in love with 
Jennie Van Gorder the first day he laid eyes on 
her. The humour of the situation was that while 
all Fairhope saw he was in love, that young man 
believed he was concealing the fact most adroitly. 
For all of a year our young preacher to a casual 
observer, was no fonder of Jennie's company than 
that of any of the other young women in Fair- 
hope's community. He was discreet, and believed 
himself as sly as a fox in his love affair, deceiving 
even the elect. And all the while, by covert glance 
and eloquent gesture, Vaughn was publishing to 
the world the loss of his heart and head. 

For a year Vaughn was 111 at ease over the 
popularity of Jennie and quite despaired of a re- 
mote chance of pressing his suit. Scarcely a Sun- 
day but some admirer of Jennie's was a guest at 
the Van Gorders, and prominent in their pew at 
church. Everywhere our preacher heard rumours 
of Jennie's engagement, either to the Cincinnati 
man, the Louisville doctor, or the Frankfort law- 
yer. Occasionally he visited the Van Gorders and 
sometimes took Jennie to a neighbourhood din- 
ner, the county fair, or a Sunday School conven- 
tion; but so far as he could see his chances for the 



174 FAIRHOPE 

young lady's favour were decidedly slim. Jennie 
was radiant in his company, but to make love to 
such a creature when her heart was likely another's 
— this seemed impossible even to so ardent a 
lover as Vaughn would have been had he the op- 
portunity. 

Some of our good women unintentionally In- 
creased Vaughn's troubles by their gossipy specula- 
tions as to Jennie's matrimonial fortunes; and a 
few, I suspect, were purposely tantalising. Such a 
one was Aunt Matt Peebles who knew more about 
the matrimonial possibilities and the marital vicis- 
situdes of Fairhope than any other resident, not 
excepting Carter Goodpasture. Aunt Matt was a 
widow of a few years duration; she had been a 
spinster of a much longer stretch of time. Spinster- 
hood had vexed Aunt Matt sorely, but she didn't 
mind being a widow in the least. She was a regular 
attendant at Fairhope and a loyal member. 

'* Nothing ever happens at church that Aunt 
Matt ain't Sally-on-the-spot," was Carter Good- 
pasture's characterisation of Mrs. Matt Peebles. 

Aunt Matt never missed an opportunity to in- 
form Vaughn that '' Jennie Van Gorder is spoke 
for and good as married already." There was 
something almost malicious In the persistence with 
which she declared in his hearing that the belle 
of our county was wooed and won beyond the 
peradventure of a doubt. Vaughn whose nature 
was kind and affectionate — though quick of tem- 
per, was conscious of a growing dislike for Aunt 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 175 

Matt and a positive dread of her presence. Once 
in the midst of his fears and doubts as to the 
possibility of his successful suit, he met Aunt Matt 
on the pike near the Van Gorders. He would have 
driven on but she reined in the flea-bitten grey 
mare and there was nothing for her pastor to do 
but halt his livery nag also. 

'' Good morning, Brother Vaughn. Nice day." 
Vaughn — calm on the surface but inwardly boil- 
ing — returned her greeting, but not so graciously 
as was his habit. 

'' Going to stop at Van Gorders to-day, I take 
it." Vaughn nodded his head in affirmation. 

" Well, it's a good place to stop, but after 
Jinny's married that Looyville doctor I reckon it 
won't be so powerful attractive place to the young 
fellers. Do you? " 

Vaughn felt like boxing the woman's ears 
soundly, and he was greatly relieved when after a 
few minutes' conversation she '' allowed she'd bet- 
ter mosey on to market." 

The second summer of Vaughn's ministry at 
Fairhope the rumours of Jennie Van Gorder's en- 
gagement were more numerous than ever. One 
day a funeral service took him to Florence and 
from there he drove over to the neighbourhood of 
Point Pleasant to visit a sick woman; thence to 
Major Menifee's by way of the county seat. The 
day had been long and dismal enough for the 
young preacher. At Florence he overheard a 
group of women referring to Jennie's approaching 



176 FAIRHOPE 

marriage to the Louisville doctor. A voluble 
visitor at the home of the sick woman in the Point 
Pleasant neighbourhood asked him point blank if 
it was not true that Jennie Van Gorder's engage- 
ment had just been announced in the Courier 
Journal. And at the county seat Vaughn learned 
that Jennie had been there a few hours before and 
the gossipy little village was assured that the 
engagement had been announced, only it was the 
Cincinnati man who was lucky instead of the Louis- 
ville doctor. Vaughn took fresh courage at this 
variation of the rumour, but he was thoroughly 
disgusted with himself and the world in general 
when he drove up just about supper time at Oak 
Knoll. 

To this day there is no better place to drive dull 
care away than at Oak Knoll. Vaughn's spirits 
rose as he sat at the bountifully spread board and 
entered into an animated conversation with the 
Major and Miss Clara. The Menifees fascinated 
their young guest who was in dire need of the 
good cheer which the fine old homestead radiated. 
After supper the Major led the way to the wide 
verandah which runs the entire front of the house. 
The Major lighted his briar pipe which was a 
ceremony in itself; and after he had settled in a 
most comfortable and confiding mood, Vaughn felt 
that there never would be a better time for ac- 
quiring some information which he greatly desired. 
So as soon as there was an opportunity to intro- 
duce the matter without actually dragging it in, 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 177 

Vaughn enquired quite incidentally, yet with 
thinly disguised interest, *' Major, is it true that 
Miss Jennie Van Gorder is to be married? " 

The Major took his pipe from his mouth. 
'* Most assuredly." Vaughn felt his knees trem- 
ble. *' Sometime, I reckon — " 

Vaughn laughed outright and immoderately. 
His immense relief showed in his spirited reply. 
" Major, I mean soon. Tell me, is there any 
truth in these stories that that wonderful ^irl is 
engaged to the Louisville quack, that Frankfort 
pettifogger, or that Cincinnati Beau Brummel?" 

The Major was startled at such vigorous lan- 
guage from the young preacher. He was much 
amused, too; though in his heart he approved of 
Vaughn's attitude. But he was provokingly de- 
liberate in his reply and took several deep pulls 
at his pipe and blew the smoke in fantastic whiffs 
and rings. Just about the time Vaughn was on 
the point of repeating the question the Major 
spoke. 

** My boy, you put an interrogation to me I 
can't answer. Only Jennie can answer that ques- 
tion, I reckon." 

The Major grew reflective. '' Marriage is a 
mighty important matter. It's a venture that one 
has to make by faith, sir. And when it comes to a 
minister of the Gospel marrying — so far as my 
observation goes — it either makes him or it 
breaks him." 

The Major grew reminiscent and told Vaughn 



178 FAIRHOPE 

how a certain minister of some distinction blasted 
a most promising ministerial career by an unfor- 
tunate matrimonial alliance. The Major related 
the episode with grace and embellishment. During 
the narrative Vaughn was ill at ease and scarcely 
waited till the end before he blurted out, " Major, 
do you think Jennie Van Gorder would make a 
practical wife for a preacher?" 

The Major removed the pipe from his lips, laid 
a hand affectionately on Vaughn's knee, and re- 
plied with the emphasis of conviction, " Not only 
a practical wife, but an ideal one ! For any man, 
sir, who is fortunate enough to win her! I have 
known her from the time she was a babe in her 
mother's arms. I know her stock, sir. I know her 
so well, sir, that if I were a young blood I'd look 
no further until I was turned down cold, sir." 

Vaughn — in water far over his head — struck 
out now fearlessly. '' Major, I do wish I had 
known this young woman sooner. It strikes me 
there's little chance for a preacher among these 
lawyers, doctors, and city bloods; and for the life 
of me, I can't say I've seen the slightest indica- 
tion of her having any special regard for her 
pastor." 

The Major refilled his pipe deliberately, tamped 
the tobacco gently with his middle finger, lit it 
with solicitous care, puffed awhile, and then an- 
swered as if from deep reflection, " Vaughn, I've 
lived a good many years, and in my younger days 
I was what is known as a ladies' man. In a sense, 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 179 

I am still that kind of man; and will be till I pay 
the great debt of nature. I have observed that 
you never can predict how a woman or a jury will 
decide. But, sir, be sure of this : whenever a young 
lady notices the way a young gentleman parts his 
hair and is concerned thereby, put it down, sir, in 
black and white, she has some special interest in 
him/' 

The Major stopped. Vaughn hoped he would 
continue. This last observation was enigmatical. 
He waited for light but none came save the glow 
of the Major's pipe. He was on the point of ask- 
ing the Major just what he meant when Miss 
Clara joined them and the topic of conversation 
was perforce changed. Vaughn pondered the mat- 
ter further in his room that night and tossed about 
on his bed, unable to sleep. He decided he would 
quiz the Major further in the morning, but when 
he went down to breakfast he learned that his 
host had left unexpectedly for Cincinnati on ur- 
gent business. 

Vaughn drove away in high spirits. He re- 
solved to write Miss Van Gorder at once, and 
transfer to paper the sentences he could not trust 
himself to frame in her presence. That night he 
wrote the first draft of the missive that was to de- 
clare his love ; and after spending the larger part 
of the next day in numerous revisions, he decided 
that the fifteenth was as strong as he could hope to 
compose if he wrote a hundred. There were ten 
pages and they told Miss Van Gorder of the 



i8o FAIRHOPE 

young minister's love for her from the day he 
first saw her in Fairhope meeting-house; and asked 
her to share her life with his. In a postscript he 
reminded Jennie that she had an engagement to 
accompany him on Wednesday of the next week 
to the county Sunday School convention at Peters- 
burg where he was to preach the sermon. He 
suggested that she give him her answer at that 
time. 

The momentous day arrived and Fairhope's 
minister appeared at the Van Gorder home shortly 
after dinner. He was driving a good looking liv- 
ery horse which unlike most horses of that species, 
was inclined to be skittish. Vaughn was so spick 
and span that he seemed to have stepped out 
from the proverbial band-box. It was midsummer, 
the time of the year that is usually hot and dusty; 
but frequent rains had laid low the dust of the 
turnpike, the foliage was still rich in verdure, and 
the crops were particularly fine. As Vaughn and 
his fair companion drove through the gate and out 
on the turnpike it seemed to them that no day in 
midsummer could be more heavenly. 

Vaughn was conscious of elation; he felt like a 
colt. Jennie was superb in all her fresh young 
loveliness, which was enhanced by a filmy dress of 
white embroidered muslin. They drove leisurely 
along, meeting only an occasional vehicle. Very 
soon Vaughn introduced Major Menifee as the 
topic for conversation. It was a popular theme. 
They remarked on the Major's gallantry, his old- 



A MINISTER'S WOOING i8i 

fashioned courtesy, and his fascinating charm as 
a host. 

'* The Major is a gentleman of the old school/' 
commented Vaughn, '' and he surely takes a 
fatherly interest in me. Why, what do you think ! 
He gave me some advice as to the kind of wife a 
minister ought to have." 

Jennie glanced at him coyly. ''Indeed!" she 
remarked. ^* How interesting! " 

" Yes, he actually told me that when a min- 
ister marries it either makes or breaks him," re- 
joined Vaughn. 

'' Oh, he's a student of human nature," con- 
tinued the young preacher, '^ and he does know a 
lot about ladies, in particular. He confided to me 
that nobody can ever be sure just how a woman 
or a jury will decide." 

Miss Van Gorder's blue eyes were looking 
straight ahead, fixed apparently upon the flexible 
ear tips of their driving horse. 

''And was that all the Major said?'* she en- 
quired demurely. 

" Not quite. He said he had observed that 
whenever a young woman notices how a young man 
parts his hair you can put it down in black and 
white that she has more than a passing interest 
in him." 

Miss Van Gorder made no reply, but gazed far 
across a field of corn and watched for a moment 
a flock of blackbirds flying noisily overhead. The 
road now sloped gently to the ford of a little 



i82 FAIRHOPE 

stream. Usually the water at this crossing was not 
a foot deep, but the recent rains had swollen the 
little stream until it was now some fifty feet in 
width and the water in places nearly up to the 
hub of the buggy wheel. They drove in slowly and 
were perhaps half-way across when part of the 
harness broke, dropping the shafts, and leaving 
the tugs and straps dangling about the horse's legs. 
Further progress was impossible and the horse 
gave evidence of fright. 

'' Of all places for a mishap, this is the worst! " 
said Vaughn. 

Miss Van Gorder showed some evidence of con- 
cern. '* Oh, what shall we do? " she cried. 

*' Only one thing to do," her companion re- 
joined. " I've got to get out into this water, quiet 
the horse, get him loose from the buggy, take him 
to shore, and come back for you." 

And right there Vaughn showed how plucky he 
was. He removed his spotless cutaway coat and 
immaculate white vest, and handed them to the 
young lady. Then right over the wheel, went his 
patent leather shoes, his fancy hose, and neatly 
pressed trousers, into the water up to his knees. 
He waded to the horse's head, spoke a few words 
to the frightened animal, detached him from the 
buggy and led him out. Then he plunged into the 
water once more, took hold of the shafts and 
pulled the buggy and the fair passenger to the 
bank. 

Miss Van Gorder was elated. '* Well done," 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 183 

she said. *' Why, you're capital, Mr. Preacher! 
You're equal to any emergency. But your wet 
clothes and the sermon you have to preach ! What 
will you do? " 

" Never mind about that," reassured Vaughn. 
^' The important thing now is to find a piece of 
rope or cord. Til have to mend that harness or 
we can't go on." 

He searched through all his pockets ; he looked 
underneath the high seat and even on the bottom 
of the buggy; but not the smallest piece of string 
could he find. Vaughn looked at his watch, then 
at the broken harness, then helplessly at Jennie 
Van Gorder. That young lady's eyes — always 
eloquent — were doubly so now with mystery. 
The cherry red lips moved. 

" Mr. Vaughn, will you please look straight 
ahead till I call you? " 

Instantly he turned his head away from his at- 
tractive companion and gazed '* straight ahead." 
Afterward he remembered there were three cows, 
two horses, a mare and a mule colt in the field. 
After what seemed to him an exceedingly long 
time. Miss Van Gorder said, " Now ! " 

And lo ! that young lady was holding out from 
her waist before his very eyes, a smooth white 
string. A trembling voice said, '* Cut It off right 
here." 

Somewhat awkwardly Vaughn produced a pen- 
knife and started to cut the string where Jennie's 
small fingers indicated. Then he stopped and 



1 84 FAIRHOPE 

looked at her shyly and stammered, " Why, I 
mustn't do it, I — " 

*' Reverend Harmon Vaughn, you cut that cor- 
set string this minute, and mend that harness as 
quick as you can," she admonished. 

And Fairhope's minister straightway did as he 
was told. He quickly mended the harness, hitched 
the horse again to the buggy, twisted the water out 
of his trousers as best he could, and very gingerly 
got back into the buggy so as not to allow his damp 
clothing to touch the dress of the young lady. 
They rode on for a hundred yards or more and 
neither spoke a word. Then the young lady spoke 
very softly, like the murmur of a mountain brook, 
Vaughn thought. 

'' Mr. Vaughn, you won't mind my saying it, I 
hope ; but really I am sincere in asking this of you. 
Please don't ever part your hair on the right side 
again, or in the middle. Part it on the left side. 
It's more becoming there." 

For a single second Harmon Vaughn looked 
startled, as if not comprehending what Jennie Van 
Gorder had said. Then an expression of complete 
understanding came into his eyes. He forgot to 
glance up or down the road; he did not deign to 
observe the fields on either side for farm hands 
who might be at work. Fairhope's minister forgot 
his wet clothes, his water sodden, patent leather 
shoes; even the carefully prepared sermon he was 
to preach that evening; forgot everything but Jen- 
nie Van Gorder. She was looking him full in the 



A MINISTER'S WOOING 185 

face and the light in her eyes was such as only rapt 
young lovers can understand. Timidly, yet reso- 
lutely, Vaughn bent over and kissed the full red 
lips. 

Harmon Vaughn and Jennie Van Gorder were 
married the following December. They had a 
church wedding, of course. And such a wedding! 
The spacious meeting-house could scarcely hold 
the hundreds who came for the great event. It 
was a very impressive and dignified wedding as, in- 
deed, it had a right to be. There was no shower- 
ing of rice, nor throwing of old shoes after the 
couple. The people remained quietly in their seats 
until the bride and groom had entered the closed 
carriage which was waiting to take them to Cin- 
cinnati. The Major and Lucy Patton witnessed 
the ceremony from the rear of the church and 
were the only ones privileged to extend their con- 
gratulations. Lucy's calm, spirituelle face was 
lighted with a sweet smile. *' The best of every- 
thing for you both," she breathed. Then she kissed 
Jennie. 

The Major's fine, old, ruddy countenance was 
aglow with love and pride. '' God prosper you, my 
children," he exclaimed. '' Vaughn, you lucky dog, 
take good care of her; Jennie, brush his hair, 
and ahem! by the way, here's a ball of cord in 
case of an accident." 

Then he, too, kissed Jennie, wrung Vaughn's 
hand, and the carriage rolled away. 

Vaughn fills a metropolitan pulpit to-day and 



1 86 FAIRHOPE 

Jennie matches his brilliance with her winsome 
womanliness. Only last week I passed the Van 
Gorder homestead and I saw swinging on the gate 
a little boy whose deep blue eyes were precisely 
like his mother's. I also observed that his hair 
tumbled over his forehead after the fashion of his 
father's. 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 

Harmon Vaughn's ministry marked high tide at 
Fairhope under the old order of things. The de- 
cline set in before he came and only his buoyant 
young leadership and his popularity postponed 
the inevitable. After he left, we had a half-dozen 
ministers for brief periods; some good, some in- 
different, and all pessimistic as to Fairhope's fu- 
ture. Death began to take a heavy toll from the 
ranks of our older members. One by one our 
strong, dependable veterans answered the last roll 
call. More ominous yet, the young life to an 
alarming extent disappeared from the church serv- 
ices. Audiences dwindled and a listless atmosphere 
was observable at the morning meeting once so 
vibrant with worshipful values. 

This condition was by no means confined to Fair- 
hope. In fact, it was threatening the very exist- 
ence of other churches in the county before it be- 
came acute with us. Two of the congregations in 
the southern section had disbanded and the meet- 
ing-house doors locked. Rural church life was sick 
unto death. 

The years in their flight dropped the mantle of 
Fairhope's fathers upon her sons. In time it came 
to pass that George Van Gorder, Harrison Pat- 
ton, and I were chosen to share the eldership with 
Major Menifee. The choice conferred responsi- 
bility as well as honour and the four of us took 
to heart the untoward condition of our historic 

189 



igo FAIRHOPE 

church. In place of looking forward to the Lord's 
day worship, we began to dread the droning, 
dreary service so different from what we had been 
accustomed to in Fairhope meeting-house. We 
elders held numerous informal meetings to deter- 
mine what could be done to stem the tide that 
was beating at the citadel of our community life. 

It was about this time that the religious press 
commenced to discuss the country church prob- 
lems, devoting much space to editorial and articles 
on the subject. Conferences and conventions of re- 
ligious workers were held in various sections of the 
State, seeking to stimulate interest in the country 
church. The Agricultural College and Farmer's 
Institutes took up the agitation, and the university 
at Lexington established a course in Rural Life 
Ideals in which the place of the church in the com- 
munity was recognised as vital. 

Some of our membership followed these discus- 
sions closely and were heartened thereby. Major 
Menifee opened a correspondence with the presi- 
dent of the Seminary, laying the case of Fairhope 
before him. The result was that the president 
recommended one Roger Edgecomb for our pul- 
pit and advised us to secure him if at all possible. 
He had made a study of rural church work and 
was fresh from a special course in community serv- 
ice. He was, we were informed, an experienced 
minister of middle age, a lover of nature, an out- 
of-doors man, and a bachelor. The advice of the 
seminary president impressed us favourably. In 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 191 

fact, we grasped it as the proverbial drowning man 
at a straw. Roger Edgecomb was asked to visit 
us and the opening chapter of these annals de- 
scribes the manner of his advent into my life and 
foreshadows the beginning of a new epoch in the 
community. 

Edgecomb preached twice in Fairhope meeting- 
house and remained for a week, as he expressed it, 
" to tramp over the country a bit." He seemed to 
sense Fairhope's condition at once, but he took 
nothing for granted. He conferred fully and 
frankly with the elders, scrutinised the membership 
roll, and studied carefully what few records of the 
Sunday School we could assemble. He visited 
widely among the members and throughout the 
community, and finally made a two days' trip 
through the county with George Van Gorder in 
the latter's automobile. Then — and not until 
then — was he ready to talk business. 

*' The county is sadly over-churched," he re- 
ported. *' There are twelve congregations. Three 
have shut up shop ; five are in feeble condition ; all 
are needing immediate attention. Fairhope Is by 
far the best off; and there is, I believe, a future 
for it. I like your community. I am already in 
love with your hills, your vales, and rocks. You 
may not know it, but parts of this county constitute 
a birds' paradise. I'll come, but not for less than 
a three year period, providing you brethren will 
agree to do what I think ought to be done. An 
automobile — just an inexpensive runabout — is 



192 FAIRHOPE 

a necessity in rural church work. As for salary: 
you may do one of two things, pay me $1,200 a 
year and I will buy my own car ; or I will come for 
$1,000 a year and you provide the car." 

After such a direct fashion Edgecomb made 
known the terms on which he would come. In 
Fairhope's palmy days these conditions would 
have been easy to meet; now they were difficult. 
However, with very slight discussion, we chose the 
second of his propositions and agreed to furnish 
the automobile. Four families of Fairhope guar- 
anteed half of the new financial budget; and Roger 
Edgecomb — prophet of the new order — became 
our minister. 

The matter of a boarding place for Edgecomb 
gave us some concern for he insisted (and right- 
fully) on a location close to the meeting-house. 
No suitable place seemed available until it oc- 
curred to me that the prophet's chamber at Maple 
Shade was occupied all too seldom these days. 
Why not invite the man to stay with us ? The idea 
was capital 1 I lost no time in inviting him; nor 
did he in accepting the invitation. He came; and 
though little more than two years have elapsed, 
I can scarcely realise that Roger Edgecomb and 
I have not known each other all our lives. 

The first change Edgecomb wrought was in the 
appearance of the meeting-house grounds. He di- 
rected that the high osage fence which enclosed 
the church lot like a jail wall, be trimmed imme- 
diately. The hedge had not been cut for many 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 193 

years and had grown up tall and rank, quite ob- 
scuring the building from the passersby on the pike. 
Straightway the hedge was trimmed and the good 
lines of the commodious rectangular edifice topped 
with graceful steeple, stood out in full view of 
travellers on either pike or dirt road. 

Next Edgecomb provided for the proper illum- 
ination of the grounds. A single oil lamp had 
aforetime served at the gate, but it had been out of 
repair for two or three years, and a dimly lighted 
lantern hung on one of the posts cast a yellowish 
ray about the entrance. Edgecomb saw that six 
strong gasoline lamps were supplied — two at the 
gate posts, the others at intervals about the 
grounds so as to flood the place with light even on 
the darkest night. This innovation invested the 
place with a fine glow of genial hospitality and 
caused an increased attendance at the night serv- 
ice. 

There are two ante-rooms, one on each side of 
the main entrance to the meeting-house. They 
were long disused and as full of junk as an attic 
chamber. One of these Edgecomb cleaned out and 
converted into a nature library. He contributed 
some of his own volumes and secured others from 
the Agricultural College and the Federal govern- 
mental departments. There were books on birds, 
fungi, flowers, reptiles, animals, and a dozen good 
works of fiction with out-of-door settings. Edge- 
comb announced that these books were for the 
use of any one who wanted to read them. This 



194 FAIRHOPE 

*' literary bureau " — as Major Menifee called it, 
was popular and fruitful. The people responded 
to the invitation with alacrity. 

Edgecomb's sermons from the first were direct, 
practical, and brief. He preached the Gospel 
clearly and convincingly, with applications to 
everyday life more direct than we were accus- 
tomed to hear. He paid attention to the music, too, 
being blest with a good voice; and he arranged 
early in his ministry with us for a class in singing. 
He had not been in charge at Fairhope six months 
until we noted with deep joy the drift of young 
life into the services. A new interest was manifest. 
Our minister's little runabout was busy every day 
and often late at night. Slowly but surely, he es- 
tablished points of contact with residents of the 
community who had lost all interest in the church. 
At the village stores and neighbourhood gather- 
ings the conversations turned easily into religious 
channels. There were many signs that indicated 
the church was coming into her own again in our 
section of northern Kentucky. 

The children of the tenantry have as a class, 
been neglected by the country churches; and even 
Fairhope in the heyday of its strength was not ac- 
tive in securing the tenants' children for the Sun- 
day School. Our church was accustomed to give 
one hundred dollars each year for foreign mis- 
sions, which was good; but within a mile of our 
meeting-house were dozens of little chaps growing 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 195 

up without education and for the most part lack- 
ing suitable clothing to wear to Sunday School. 
On the whole, we were strangely indifferent to this 
missionary opportunity at our very door. Edge- 
comb changed all this. He created a conscience 
among our members in this matter; while he, 
himself, was a tireless caller on the famihes of 
our tenants. At first they were a little afraid of 
him, but he completely won them over. The chil- 
dren — usually bashful and tongue tied in the 
presence of strangers — began to come regularly 
to Sunday School and became after awhile very 
much at home in Fairhope meeting-house. At the 
end of Edgecomb's first year Fairhope's Sunday 
School had broken all previous records, and an 
annex of some sort became a necessity. Never be- 
fore were we so interested in the welfare of the 
tenantry, both white and black. It was a revela- 
tion to us, we had been blind to whitened harvest 
fields at our very doors. 

The phrase " a community centred ministry " 
Is one I often see in farm journals or hear at 
rural life conferences ; but I never knew just what 
possibilities were wrapped up in those words un- 
til Roger Edgecomb became our spiritual leader. 
Then I beheld a great light. An incident of re- 
cent occurrence is to the point, though it is only 
one of the many of a similar nature. Edgecomb 
came into the house from a busy half-day spent 
among his parishioners. Pausing at the door of the 



196 FAIRHOPE 

room where I sat writing, he called out, '' Mine 
host, how would you like a pastoral report of the 
forenoon? " 

'' First rate," I answered. 

" Then you shall have it; and in true sermonic 
form, at that. Firstly, there's a brand new baby 
boy down at Peter Shepherd's establishment (the 
Shepherds are tenants on a neighbouring farm), 
and I have secured the services of Mrs. Molly 
Young as long as she is needed there. Secondly, 
Uncle Tommy Townsend is in a bad way. Lum- 
bago, rheumatism, pleurisy; Tommy only knows 
what! So I asked Dr. Hammond to take good 
care of him and send the bill to the treasurer of 
Fairhope Church. Thirdly, I punctured a tire 
down on Garrison to-day, and while I was repair- 
ing it big John Keeler came along and assisted 
me. He didn't say a single swear word the thirty 
minutes he was my helper; and he promised to be 
at service next Sunday, too. In conclusion, there 
is a flock of Cedar-wax Wings in the big trees in 
front of Jethro Walmsley's; I counted fourteen. 
They're beauties ! You ought to see them ! " 

So saying, and without waiting for reply, he 
ascended the stairs to his room two steps at a 
time, humming *' There's a little brown church 
in the Wlldwood," as he went. 

We have enjoyed the ministry of some great 
preachers at Fairhope, but they were not nature 
lovers such as Is Roger Edgecomb. He loves the 
soil. " God's dirt," he calls it. And a favourite 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 197 

theme with him is *' The Soil and the Soul/' I 
have heard him preach on that subject, lecture on 
it, and make it the theme of numerous informal 
talks. It was a notable day at the Farmer's In- 
stitute at Petersburg, when Fairhope's minister 
lectured on " The Soil and the Soul." It was the 
first time the people of our county ever heard their 
land and their Lord so wondrously and beautifully 
linked together. 

*' There are two elements in human life," he 
said, " the desire to live and the passion to per- 
petuate the race. Appetite and love are the con- 
trolling forces of society. The elemental desires 
of humanity are for food and happiness, bread 
for the body and bread for the soul. In the study 
of history we find two elements: the soil and 
the soul. The granary and the synagogue are the 
symbols of human life. There has never been a 
great civilisation without the soil and the soul. 
The ancient nations sprang up along streams and 
around bodies of water. Man has always had a 
religion. He is incurably religious. The story of 
the Garden of Eden is an interesting illustration. 
Genesis is the book of beginnings. In the begin- 
ning of the race we discover two things: the soil 
and the soul. God is the great Horticulturist. He 
planted a garden eastward in Eden. He created 
man in His own image and made him the keeper 
of the garden. From that day until this, both ele- 
ments have been present in world growth. We 
need food for the body and food for the soul." 



198 FAIRHOPE 

In order to win the young life in the commun- 
ity for the church, Edgecomb mingled freely with 
the young people at all sorts of gatherings. He 
even made bold to attend the Harvest Home as- 
sembly where dancing was a popular feature. 
Some of the ministers in the county had assailed bit- 
terly these dances and condemned vigorously the 
young people who took part in them. Edgecomb 
did not give the dances at the Harvest Home his 
approval; but he made it a point to drive into the 
grounds along toward the close of the festivities 
and in a friendly manner — free from the least 
suspicion of a patronising spirit — made the 
young people know that he was interested in them 
and had at heart their highest good. So it came 
about naturally that the young life began to centre 
again in Fairhope meeting-house. In a few months 
young people were conspicuous in all the services; 
and when for the first time in Fairhope's history 
ushers were selected and assigned their places, it 
was young men who were chosen for that impor- 
tant work. 

Still more significant in the changing order of 
our community's religious life was an incident of 
Edgecomb's first year's ministry at Fairhope. As 
has been observed in other chapters of these an- 
nals, we are immersionists ; and our churches are 
stout defenders of the baptismal ordinance ac- 
cording to the practice of the Apostolic Church. 
Practically all the debates and much of the con- 
troversy centred about this ordinance and its ob- 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 199 

servance in conformity to New Testament teach- 
ing. Shortly after Edgecomb began his ministry 
at Fairhope, a family by the name of Hanford 
moved into our community. They were very ac- 
tive Christians and had been useful members of a 
church which baptises by affusion. From the first 
the Hanfords entered into our services with en- 
thusiasm. The husband and wife had letters from 
their church certifying that they were members in 
good standing, commending them to the Chris- 
tian love and over sight of the congregation wher- 
ever the letter should be presented. There were 
three children in the family ranging from eleven to 
eighteen years of age, and the advent of the Han- 
fords into a most active interest in the Sunday 
School and all the services of Fairhope was almost 
epochal. One day about six weeks after they had 
been worshipping at Fairhope, Mr. Hanford 
called to see Roger Edgecomb and handed him the 
church letters. 

'' Brother Edgecomb," he explained, " I know 
the custom of your church to receive into fellow- 
ship only those who have been immersed. Now we 
want to work with your congregation here. In 
fact, we are already working with you, and are in 
heartiest sympathy with all your plans for a com- 
munity church. We expect to pay and pray, to 
work in the Sunday School, and assist in every way 
in the Lord's work; but neither my wife nor my- 
self can see any reason for being rebaptised. 
Please take these letters, keep them for us, and if 



200 FAIRHOPE 

we should leave this community return them to 
us." 

Edgecomb took the letters, and the next Lord's 
day he called a meeting of the elders. He related 
to us the incident and repeated as nearly as he 
could recall the words of Mr. Hanford's request. 
Seldom have I seen his face more serious or his 
manner of speech more earnest. 

" Men, I've been wondering what I ought to 
do about these letters," he said. " Just here is a 
subtle and difficult point in the building up of a 
community church. These people are not ready to 
go all the way with us doctrinally; but they love 
the same Lord, and they are already among our 
most zealous and competent workers. All they 
ask is to be allowed to work side by side with us. 
They are not asking any other recognition than 
that of fellow-workers, and not that publicly. It 
is probable that similar cases will come up from 
time to time in the rebuilding of our Christian 
communities. I believe we ought to meet this is- 
sue frankly and decide now what our policy shall 
be. After some reflection I have a suggestion: 
Suppose I state to the congregation just what Mr. 
Hanford stated to me when he handed me the 
letters; and further, that I speak our hearty ap- 
preciation of these Christian workers and voice 
the belief which I fervently cherish that in circum- 
stances of this kind it becomes us to practise the 
unity of Christian service wherever possible; and 
that out of such practice other unifying processes 



THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 201 

may rightfully be expected to follow. Of course, 
I could keep these letters and say nothing about 
them publicly, and the Hanfords would go on 
working with us just the same. But it occurs to 
me that to make some simple statement of the fact 
as I have suggested is more brotherly and just, 
and perhaps may help to solve this knotty question 
of an enfeebled religious life in the community. 
What have you men to say about it? " 

We listened closely to our minister's earnest 
presentation of the case. There was not a man 
of us but realised it touched the heart of a serious 
condition which had grown more deplorable in 
recent years. We were filled with a lofty hope that 
out of this simple and informal recognition of the 
Hanfords as fellow-workers in the kingdom of 
God there might accrue a still deeper unity in a 
common faith. Consequently there was not a dis- 
senting voice among us ; but instead, an unanimous 
approval of the minister's suggestion. 

The following Lord's day morning Mr. Edge- 
comb made a statement before the congregation 
similar to the one made in the presence of the 
elders, and heartily approved by them. When he 
had finished and we arose to sing the closing hymn, 
" Bless be the tie that binds our hearts in Chris- 
tian love," it seemed to some of us that we were 
back again in the days of Fairhope's former 
strength and prosperity, for the glory of the She- 
kinah filled the meeting-house. 

One night recently I chanced to pass Fairhope 



202 FAIRHOPE 

meeting-house on my way to the city. It was a 
week night, yet a crowd was assembling for a lec- 
ture and sociable. The grounds were flooded with 
light; the meeting-house windows glowed hospita- 
bly; and from a throng of young people there 
floated out upon the fragrant air fresh young 
voices in pleasant conversation, mingled with rip- 
ples of merry laughter. With a joy in my heart too 
full for words, I drove cityward. Fairhope's fu- 
ture was big with promise, and my cup overflowed. 



A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 



A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 

As turns and twists the pike road, it is all of two 
miles from Maple Shade to Fairhope; but across 
the intervening fields and by paths familiar to me, 
it is little more than half so far. I have always 
been something of a pedestrian; quite unusual, too, 
in a community where men and women prefer to 
ride or drive even to the nearest neighbour. It is 
my love for tramping about the fields and along 
the pike that inspired one of our negro tenants to 
describe me as '^ the walkin'est white man in Ken- 
tucky." My tramps take me often past Fairhope 
meeting-house, and sometimes I stop for rest in 
the shade of the lordly trees, and for a period of 
reflection in the nearby plot where sleep so many 
whom I have known and loved in the flesh. 

Since I began these annals almost a twelve- 
month has passed. Spring is later with us this year 
than usual; and though May is ten days old, only 
within the past week has the full tide of the sea- 
son's loveliness burst over northern Kentucky. As 
if eager to compensate for the delay in genial glow 
of sunshine, glory of wild flower, and ecstasy of 
bird song, nature is fairly prodigal now in her lav- 
ishness. 

Yesterday afternoon was still young when I set 
out for a leisurely stroll in the direction of Fair- 
hope. The migrants are tarrying in these parts, 
loath to leave such bowers of beauty as abound 
in the deep ravines and cool, sequestered tangles of 

205 



2o6 FAIRHOPE 

underbrush. Yesterday the warblers were espe- 
cially numerous and my progress was therefore 
slow. Often stopping to watch a familiar bird, and 
occasionally led aside in order to get a good look 
at a rarer species, I was a full hour reaching Fair- 
hope. I paused beneath the grateful shade in front 
of the meeting-house before entering the grassy 
area where Fairhope's membership is more numer- 
ous than on her church roll. 

Of all the names applied to the place where re- 
pose our dead, I like '' God's Acre " best. The 
word '' cemetery " is formal, and '' graveyard " is 
a cold and heartless term. But *' God's Acre " is 
full of comfort and to me a phrase of uncommon 
tenderness. Fairhope's '^ God's Acre " is rightly 
praised both for its natural beauty and for the 
care bestowed upon it by the deft hands of our men 
and women. It occurs to me that where ever man 
gives thought and care to a burial ground, God Al- 
mighty surpasses him in wealth and wonder of 
trees and grass and wild flowers. Our neighbour- 
hood takes a just pride in caring for the hallowed 
area west of the meeting-house ; it is well kept but 
not so as to mar a certain wild beauty which in 
early spring and midsummer is seen at its best. 

There is a rustic bench to the left of Colonel 
Fairhope's grave and nearly opposite the Board- 
man lot. Thither I went, and scarcely had I sat 
down when I detected the tang of tobacco smoke 
and simultaneously I heard footsteps. Only one 



A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 207 

man in the community smokes so fragrant a leaf 
and I was not surprised, but very glad, to see Ma- 
jor Menifee shortly after enter the gate. He saw 
me at once. 

'' Ah, Davy," he hailed, ''you here, too? Well, 
sir, it's a good thing to visit this place at times 
other than an interment." 

My hand met the Major's in a clasp of singular 
warmth. We sat down together. The Major re- 
moved his wide-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, and 
tossed it on the ground at his feet. " Davy," he 
queried, " do you come here often? " 

''Yes, Major; frequently in spring and 
autumn." 

" Strange," he reflected, " I haven't met you 
here before. The truth is I've been coming a great 
deal of late myself. This evening I brought a 
mare over to be shod and I decided I could spend 
the time more profitably here than at the shop. 
It's a good place to reflect; quiet reigns, and it's 
far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife. 
Davy, there's a verse in Ecclesiastes which I used 
to regard as a bit of pessimism ; but, sir, I'm comin' 
to think highly of it. You'll recall the verse, * It is 
better to go to the house of mourning than to the 
house of feasting.' There is a wholesome philoso- 
phy in that, Davy. There is something wholesome, 
sir, in such a blessed vista as this." 

The Major spread out his arms in a gesture 
which took in the entire cemetery. 



2o8 FAIRHOPE 

" You and I think alike on such subjects," I as- 
sented. '' Never shall I forget a June day when I 
visited Stokes Pogis." 

The Major's eyes sparkled, for Gray's Elegy 
was one of his favourites. 

I continued, '' Major, this spot means to you 
and me all that any beautiful, well-kept God's Acre 
means and infinitely more." 

'' That it does, Davy. We are at home here 
where Fairhope is so eloquently represented. 
Think of it ! Jacob Boardman, Franklin Van Pelt, 
Judge Patton, Luke Van Gorder, Giles Shockley, 
your mother and father, Davy; my father and 
mother, my wife, my son — " 

The Major's voice faltered. He did not go on. 
His pipe had gone out, but he did not relight it. A 
slight breeze was wafted from the West laden with 
the fragrance of honeysuckle. From a tree some- 
where beyond the hedge row a Maryland yellow- 
throat sang, '' Witchity-witchity-witchity; " and a 
meadow-lark flying low overhead carolled his 
cheerful, " 'Tis sweet to sing ! 'Tis sweet to sing ! " 

The Major did not speak until he was sure of 
himself, and then he was in a reminiscent mood. 
*' I have lived to see this place become populous. 
Many's the time I have heard Richard Marvin 
pray at open graves here. Davy, did you ever 
know his like when it came to talking to God Al- 
mighty as a little child might talk to his mother? 
Did you ever hear it done as Marvin did it, 
Davy?" 



A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 209 

I shook my head. '' You never have and you 
never will," affirmed the Major solemnly. 

" No, Major," I replied, " there was only one 
Richard Marvin. Thank God we were privileged 
to know him so long and intimately. He was and 
is part of Fairhope's glorious history. Nor will 
there ever be just such another rural church as 
Fairhope, Major. There will be better churches 
perhaps, and more efficient congregations; but not 
of the Fairhope type that flourished thirty years 
ago. The age is new and the times are different; 
and. Major, God has men for every age. As Rich- 
ard Marvin was in his day, so Edgecomb is in this 
day. I want to believe that with the passing of the 
old order of rural church life the glory that lighted 
up yonder meeting-house with an unearthly glow, 
will abide and must abide wherever God is wor- 
shipped in spirit and in truth." 

The Major let his eyes rest long and affection- 
ately upon Fairhope's meeting-house before reply- 
ing; stroking slowly his white goatee, a habit of 
his that betokened deep reflection. When he did 
speak his voice was low and reverent-like. 

"Well spoken, Davy. God bless us both! We 
are optimists to the core! Davy, the old customs 
are going out. The fact is, I never take my toddy 
in the presence of my guests any longer. I'm ac- 
tually abashed to be seen drinking a mint julep, 
Dave. Times are different and standards of living 
are changing. The country's going dry fast, and 
it's all for the best. Why, sir, I believe with you 



2IO FAIRHOPE 

that Fairhope's best days are in the future — not 
in the past. For one thing, our church never has 
done full duty by the tenants. Edgecomb has 
opened our half-closed eyes wide, Davy. And, sir, 
I have faith in the future of this county. Old 
Boone is going to renew its youth like the eagle. 
Just now this section of Kentucky is at a low ebb; 
but the tide is bound to turn. A more picturesque 
corner of the State than this cannot be found. And 
such scenery ! Davy Westbrooke, you and I have 
travelled some; but where is there such another 
sight as our great river hill a mile in length with 
the turnpike winding about like the coils of a great 
serpent? And the view from the deep centre of the 
biggest bend : a wonderful vista of the Ohio Val- 
ley and the majestic rivers, the boats, and the high 
hills apparelled in God Almighty's green! Then 
there is the panorama that greets the eye from the 
big hills above Petersburg; the fertile valley farm- 
land, the little town nestling among the trees, and 
beyond the winding river, the Indiana bottoms, 
and in the distance the farther hills glorified with 
the haze of heaven. Why, Davy, it is God's own 
country, is this northern Kentucky." 

The Major's speech, which had begun low, fin- 
ished in deep, full tones. It was a long speech even 
for him. I waited for him to continue as I was 
deeply stirred. But the Major arose, and I with 
him. He slipped the pipe into his pocket and linked 
his arm in mine. He led me a short distance to a 
nearby plot where flowers were blooming in a tan- 



A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 211 

gle of vine and leaf; and gently halted me before 
a square, substantial block of granite with the in- 
scription I knew by heart: 

HENRY CLAY MENIFEE JUNIOR 

BORN FEBRUARY 2, 1 868. 

DIED OCTOBER 28, 1 888. 

^''CHRIST SHALL BE MAGNIFIED IN MY 

BODY^ WHETHER BY LIFE OR BY DEATH/^ 

PHIL. 1 : 20. 

The Major stood uncovered and erect, like a 
soldier at attention. But I could feel the tremble 
of his arm resting within my own, and once he 
heaved a deep sigh. The place was very still save 
for the slumberous, restful murmur of bees busy 
among the myriad blossoms. 

'' Davy, are you familiar with 'Gene Field's 
' The Singing in God's Acre ' ? enquired the Ma- 
jor, still erect and looking straight ahead. 

" I have read the verses, though I cannot recall 
them," I answered. 

*' Well, sir, a verse of that poem expresses my 
emotions whenever I leave this place." 

The Major's rigid figure relaxed. '' I feel like 
speaking them out loud as though every resident 
of this place were listening: 

'* Sleep, O sleep, 
The Shepherd guardeth His sheep. 
Fast speedeth the night away, 
Soon Cometh the golden day. 
Sleep, weary ones, while you may, 

Sleep, O sleep/' 



212 FAIRHOPE 

As he spoke the Hnes with deep feeling, the 
Major turned his head and his brave old eyes 
swept slowly the entire enclosure, resting in tender 
gaze as he finished upon the grey stone in front 
of him. Then again the silence fell upon us, only 
to be broken shortly by my companion's hearty, 
^' Come, go home with me, Davy." 

Slowly we walked toward the pike road, our 
feet sinking in the soft-tufted earth at each step. 
As we passed through the gates with the shining 
lamps on either side, a saucy chuckle followed by a 
low musical whistle fell athwart my ears. It was as 
though an old friend had flung me salutation. 
Turning my head quickly, I caught a glimpse of 
a yellow-breasted chat as he dashed from the 
hedge row and darted into a deep tangle of foliage 
at the rear of Fairhope meeting-house. 



THE END 



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